


Don't Take Love Off the Table Yet

by harriet_vane



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Wedding Planner AU, emotional cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wedding planner AU, in which Louis plans absolutely fucking flawless weddings, until he tries to plan Liam's wedding to Danielle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Take Love Off the Table Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously for this plot to work, Liam starts out engaged to Danielle. And while no one physically cheats during this fic, there's some dubious emotional cheating going on. If that kind of thing bothers you, please skip this fic. (PS -- Sorry, Danielle.)
> 
> This has virtually no connection to the actual movie, The Wedding Planner. I tried, but Louis Tomlinson does what he wants.
> 
> Tora very kindly britpicked and beta'ed; I left some things (like bridesmaids) American despite her very good advice. I'm sorry. :( Also big thanks to sunsetmog and to my sister. ♥
> 
> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

Harry looks like he's going to be sick.

Louis puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. In his pocket, his mobile is vibrating like mad, which is definitely Niall texting about how the ceremony was supposed to have started ten minutes ago, and by now at least one of the tiny bridesmaids has ruined her pristine pink dress. Louis suspects that Nick's mother is on the verge of breathing fire. 

But the ceremony can't start without the groom, is the thing.

"You look amazing," says Louis reassuringly. It's true; Harry's wearing a tux Louis picked out for him, and his hair is carefully disheveled, and if he could stop shaking he'd look glowing and happy and thrilled. He tries an easy, reassuring, "Happiest day of your life, right?"

"I'm gonna be sick," says Harry. "All those people. What if I trip?"

That is, in fact, a concern; Louis's not sure Harry can walk ten steps without falling over something. "If you trip then Nick will think it's charming," says Louis. If there's one thing he's certain of, it's that Nick thinks everything Harry does is wonderful.

"What if Nick changes his mind? What if this is all a big mistake? What if someone else pounds on the window over the altar and Nick goes running off with him on a bus?"

That takes Louis a minute. He's got a mental list of all the things he says to brides, when they look like they might vomit before they walk down the aisle. He's convinced girls to get married when he knew they were making mistakes; he's not proud of that, but as a wedding planner it's his job. Harry doesn't fit into that category, though. As cynical as Louis is about marriage, Harry and Nick may just pull off the happily ever after.

"I don't think you're going to end up Graduated," says Louis. He takes Harry's hand reassuringly. Harry is clammy, but Louis's dealt with worse before.

"But what if?" Harry asks again.

Louis hasn't got time to argue with Harry. "Listen," he says, dropping his voice. "I've got a secret list, okay? I can predict when the couples I work with are going to break up, sometimes to the day. It's a secret, so I can't tell you how it works, but it involves the song they pick for the first dance, and how many friends they invite, and how they look at each other."

"Wow," says Harry, blinking. "Really?"

"Yes," says Louis. "And you and Nick are the first couple I've had in forever that pass all the tests on the list, okay? You're _it_." 

Louis is absolutely serious; his list of secret break up predictors has won him quite a lot of money in bets with Niall. Harry looks like it's working, so Louis doesn't add the part about how falling in love is a trap. Maybe for Harry it won't be.

Louis pulls Harry up to his feet and brushes imaginary dust off Harry's bum. "Listen here, Harry," says Louis, straightening Harry's lapels. "You're going to walk down that aisle so your mum can cry, and all those people out there can cry, and then I'm going to get you the biggest, most alcoholic drink in the world, and you and Nick are going to get so smashed you'll end up on the floor while your friends dance. But first you have to man up and walk, got it? You love him, and he loves you, and this is going to be perfect."

"Do you promise?" Harry whispers.

"Everything I do is perfect," says Louis, and Harry manages a tiny laugh. It's terrible. Louis has been trying to pretend that Harry is just any old client since he first wobbled in to Louis's office in a ratty beanie and rambled for twenty minutes straight before Louis even worked out that Harry wanted to hire him. Louis isn't supposed to feel a suspicious fondness tightening his throat. He's just supposed to want the wedding to go off flawlessly. That's all his job is. 

"Promise, though," Harry says, deep voice caught in his throat somewhere.

"I promise," says Louis, trying to sound brisk, and failing. "You look at you, you big crying baby. Come on. The music already started, and Nick's going to think you've run off with me." He pulls out a concealer stick from his very debonair satchel and touches up under Harry's eyes where he's looking teary. He ruffles Harry's hair and rearranges it perfectly, and then he drags Harry by the arm and marches him to the hall.

"Oh, thank god," says Niall. "They've been vamping the music for fifteen minutes now, Jesus." There are various tiny bridesmaids milling around, and mums trying to get them to hold their baskets properly. Harry's best man, Zayn, looks relieved as hell, too, rushing over to grab Harry and start scolding him very quietly, leaning in so it looks like he's kissing his ear. 

"Where's Nick?" Louis asks.

"'Round the other door, goin' in that way," says Niall. "Ready?"

Louis straightens out his own jacket and nods. This wedding is going to be fucking flawless. As always.

—

Harry and Nick, as promised, are so shit-faced that halfway through the reception Harry crawls under the table, and then Nick crawls down to join him. There's an open bar, so no one seems to mind. All of their friends are young, beautiful, and drunk. It's one of the largest weddings Louis's ever done; money was no object, and both grooms wanted "over the top." It's one-third wedding, two-thirds nightclub, which makes sense since Nick's DJ friends have taken over the music. Nick's in a paisley suit with a bow tie, and doesn't look at all out of place. There are flashing lights and giant ice statues with giant ice penises dripping champagne, and enough flowers to keep Eliza Doolittle in work for a lifetime. 

"You could have a drink, y'know," says Niall, popping up behind Louis out of nowhere.

"Not while I'm working," says Louis. He's already had one. It's none of Niall's business how this particular wedding is getting to him. Nick and Harry are just _so_ happy, it's disgusting. Louis needed a little fortification.

Niall snorts. He's had a few shots; at every wedding Niall ends up best friends with the entire wedding party, and they always want to give him drinks. It's something about his face, maybe. 

"Tomorrow night, you and me, all the drinks you can handle before you black out," says Niall. 

That sounds suspiciously like Niall is concerned about Louis. Louis can't stand it when people are concerned about him. "I'm fine," says Louis firmly.

"The romantic ones always get you," says Niall.

"No," says Louis. 

"When they're really soppy in love and cryin' all over each other you always get a tear in your eye, Tommo," says Niall. "You secretly fucking love it when they're really romantic."

"Shut it," says Louis firmly, elbowing him in the side. 

"I bet if you got married, your wedding would be even bigger than this, right? Flowers and chandeliers and sobbing mums everywhere, and that Celine Dion song playing—"

"I'll fire you," Louis says. "Go and get more ice for the bar."

"Fire me," repeats Niall, starting to giggle. "Oh, as if."

Louis sighs a little, because of course he can't ever fire Niall. Niall's the only one who knows where everything is, and who can charm the vendors into giving Louis the things he needs for the price he wants. "I'm not getting married," says Louis instead. "Should we bet on how long this one'll last?" It's a game they play, him and Niall, when they've started drinking. 

"No," says Niall, frowning. 

"Fifty quid says—"

" _No,_ " Niall repeats, crossing his arms. "I don't want to this time. Stop it."

Louis could keep pushing and needling, and normally he would, but he doesn't really want to think about Harry and Nick's inevitable, crushing breakup, either. Niall looks genuinely cross, and he _never_ looks cross, so Louis lets it go. 

"Whatever. You know I'm not getting married."

"Bitter old bastard," Niall mutters, but he doesn't look angry anymore. 

"—but even if I did," says Louis, because he did have a drink with Harry earlier, actually, and another with Nick, and a third with Zayn, and if anyone wants to say anything about it, they can suck his dick. "It'd be small. Just family. Just a tiny little ceremony, and no flowers or pomp or circumstance at all." He stares hard at where he can see Harry's expensive trainers sticking out from under the table. Nick's wearing nice black shoes, and their feet are all tangled together as they do whatever it is they're doing underneath that tablecloth. 

"I’m gonna get you a drink," says Niall, because that's Niall's solution to nearly everything. "And then tomorrow, we're goin' out. Drinkin' until we can't stand up anymore."

"I'm fine," says Louis, but the room feels a little brighter and hotter and louder than it did before. "But I'm going to go home. You're good to close up here, yeah?"

"Have I ever been to a party I couldn't shut down?" Niall asks, shaking his head. "After everyone's passed out, I'll roll 'em all home and clean the place up. That's what you pay me for, right?"

"I don't know what I pay you for, exactly," says Louis. He hands Niall the clipboard and the bag full of emergency items – concealer, kirby grips, a tiny sewing kit, Kwells, plasters – and heads out before the overwhelming love in the room can give him some sort of embarrassing breakdown. He's got a nice, normal wedding to start planning tomorrow, between a couple he knows will break up within the first six months after they get married, and he wants to be ready for them in the morning.

—

Louis's life as a wedding planner is immaculate; his flat is a disaster. There are clothes all over everything, and dirty shoes, and half-empty containers of takeaway with plastic forks still stuck in mountains of half-eaten rice. It doesn't matter, though, since no one sees Louis's flat except him. Even Niall's never been over. 

He tidies when his sisters come down to stay, but that's only weekends now and then. The rest of the time Louis's free to be as filthy as he likes, as filthy as he was in general before his entire career became devoted to making things look absolutely perfect. He likes it that way; it's a nice haven from matching flowers, to ribbon, to table cloths, to dyed-to-match shoes, to the groom's tie. 

And it means he's got room to stash booze all over the place. Louis flops onto his sofa and flips on BBC Four, which is some dreadfully boring programme on British painters, but it's improved immeasurably by a bottle of rum. He doesn't even bother with a mixer, because he wants to drink until he can't see Harry's silly, soft, besotted smile anymore.

It's quite hard to be a wedding planner when every time a wedding goes spectacularly well, Louis feels a bit hollowed out and miserable inside. He pushes his laptop open and clicks over to Facebook, spilling some rum on the keyboard as he does. There's nothing special going on with anyone he cares about; one of his sisters has chopped all her hair off and posted a picture. He'll be getting a hysterical phone call either from her or from his mum soon.

Louis's a glutton for punishment, though, so he clicks through some of his exes' pages. Most of them are married now. "One of those could have been my wedding," Louis tells his laptop, poking at it with one finger. Maybe he's a bit drunk already. He leaves a big smudgy mark over his ex's face and isn't sorry. He drinks half of what's left in the bottle of rum and isn't sorry about that, either.

It would have been a mistake, marrying any of them. This last one in particular had been rubbish; apparently he'd never really liked dick after all. Louis shouldn't spend the rest of his life with someone who is conflicted about how much he likes dick. But it would have been nice to spend it with _someone_ , he thinks wistfully. It would have been nice to be soppy and romantic over someone, to look at someone like Harry was looking at Nick tonight. 

Every boyfriend has ended up being shit one way or another. Adam cheated. Mark dropped off the face of the earth without so much as a goodbye, and turned up a year later with dreadlocks and a new boyfriend who only wore hemp. Chris stole all his money. 

Or maybe it's Louis who's shit; he pushes people too hard, and clings too tightly, and everyone leaves. He hates himself for being exactly the miserable bastard Niall thinks he is, but he can't help it. Relationships are rubbish and most couples end up breaking up. It doesn't matter how beautiful the wedding is, or how they look at each other. It's all a sham, covered up in flowers and tinsel and fancy table settings. 

Still, it would have been nice, Louis thinks, collapsing backward onto the sofa. The room's gone blurry, or else he's closed his eyes. Either way. He kicks a pile of dirty laundry off the sofa and stretches out. He's spilled rum on the rug; that'll have to be cleaned. Some day. Maybe. 

—

Louis's expecting a highly-strung bride – she cried on the phone – so he's a little startled when Niall sticks his head into Louis's office and says, "Well fit bloke out here for you."

"Is it the groom?" Louis asks, frowning. Usually grooms have to be dragged along to meet the wedding planner, unless it's a gay wedding, and he doesn't have one of those scheduled for today.

"Dunno, you should probably hope he's single," says Niall, and vanishes again. 

A minute later a well fit bloke walks in, looking a bit embarrassed. He's got broad shoulders, and quiffy hair at the front, and big brown eyes, and Louis thinks, yeah, it would be okay if he'd come in to talk about selling flowers or serviettes or anything except his wedding.

"Hello," he says, hands in his jeans pockets. "Um, hello again, I mean, we sort of met at Harry's wedding a couple of days ago? Harry Styles, he's a friend of mine, he's—"

"Oh, I remember," says Louis. "Not one of the best men, but sat at the front table with them, right? Next to Zayn?" Louis vaguely recalls that, although he looked a bit different with his hair straightened and slicked back.

"Yeah, I'm Liam." He smiles, looking relieved. He's got a great smile and an excellent face, and Louis's stomach clenches a little bit. Louis's good at flirting, but he hasn't had a chance to do it in a long time. He wonders if he can remember how. "You did such a nice job with Harry and Nick's bash, Harry thought maybe you could do mine as well. Except they had an unlimited budget, and me and Danielle… don't."

Fuck, Louis thinks. Fuck, of course this gorgeous boy has a fiancée. That is exactly Louis's luck. He trains a smile on to his face. "Maybe," Louis says, trying to sound discouraging, because he's better with a huge budget when he can go crazy, and he's not sure he wants to spend months and months around Liam wishing he could flirt.

Liam's face falls. "Yeah, of course, that's alright then. I know you do, like, big affairs and we're just looking for something small. Thanks, though."

His disappointed face is a bit like a physical blow to Louis. And shit, if Liam's engaged, then there's no harm in Louis keeping him around to stare at a bit more, right? "Hang on," says Louis. "Sit down, I've got a few minutes. Tell me what you're thinking of; maybe I can help."

"Yeah?" Liam asks, looking relieved. His smile is some sort of lethal weapon. Louis hopes his fiancée wears sunglasses a lot, so she can't be blinded by it. Liam sits down in the chair opposite Louis. "It's probably impossible, since it's going to be in a couple of months. I know you had months and months to plan Harry's."

"Maybe we can do something really small," Louis says. He's managed that before, but the budget never ends up being as small as he'd like. "Have you got a picture of you and your fiancée? Tell me what you're thinking."

Liam pulls out his phone and flips through to show Louis a picture. His fiancée is gorgeous; tall and dark-haired, and they've got matching dopey-in-love smiles while they stand in front of a bridge somewhere. "That's my girlfriend, Danielle."

"She's lovely," says Louis. They're going to have disgustingly beautiful babies. "Why the rush to get married?"

"Oh," says Liam, flipping to another picture, where he and Danielle are both wearing silly hats and pulling faces. "That's her idea. We've been together ages, and last summer we broke up, and when we got back together she said there wasn't really any point unless we were serious this time." 

"Ah," says Louis, in his carefully neutral voice. 

What a shame, Louis thinks, because that sort of thing means that Liam and his lovely girlfriend Danielle will be divorced in six months, if they even make it to the wedding. A real tragedy when Liam seems so nice, and they look so happy together in their pictures. 

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Liam says, in a besotted voice that breaks Louis's heart a little.

"You're a beautiful couple," says Louis. "Is she not here because she doesn't like weddings and parties?"

Liam laughs. "She's a dancer, she's out on tour right now. She's away a lot so she left the wedding to me, and I admit, I'm in a bit of a panic over it. I don't know what she was thinking. My idea of a party is a round of FIFA with my mates."

"Oh my god," says Louis. "That's fine for a Saturday night in, but I don't think that's a very good theme for a wedding."

Liam laughs, eyes crinkling up at the corner. That smile is deadly, Louis thinks again. "That's why I need your help," he says. "Harry's party was perfect. I'm just trying to be a good boyfriend and handle this."

Louis squints at Liam for a minute. Liam's wearing a basic grey t-shirt that clings nicely to his shoulders, but definitely came in a three-pack wrapped in plastic. His jeans are expensive, but they scream 'my girlfriend bought these for me,' and his belt has a Batman buckle on it. His trainers are clean but old and battered. "I don't think a single thing from Harry's wedding would be right for you," Louis says finally. "You're more… roses and very simple colors and Frank Sinatra and champagne, right?"

"Wow," says Liam, eyes wide. "That sounds perfect. That sounds _amazing_. Can you really do that?"

"Yes, _of course_ I can," says Louis, and catches himself before he adds _Why on earth did you come here if you think I can't do the simplest bloody wedding of all time?_ "I'd like to talk to you and Danielle both, though, before we set anything in stone. I'd hate to do anything the bride doesn't like. Grooms are easy, but a disappointed bride is a nightmare."

"Not Dani, she's great," says Liam. "She's not fussed about any of it."

Which is a very bad sign, Louis doesn't say. "If neither of you are fussed about this wedding, are you entirely sure you want to have it?" he asks cautiously. If they don't make it to the altar, he still needs to get paid.

Liam's face goes through about eight different emotions, not all of which Louis catches. Surprise, definitely, and then something much more complicated, and eventually he settles on determined. He's got the right eyebrows for it, certainly. "We're doing it up officially," he says. "My mum'll go mental if she doesn't get a wedding. I can't… We have to. It's been _years_."

"Only child?" Louis guesses.

"Only one left," Liam says. "One sister ran off and got married on holiday, the other one just had a 'We're never getting married' party with her boyfriend. I'm my mum's last hope."

"No pressure," says Louis.

Liam laughs again. He has to stop laughing at everything Louis says. It's disarming. "Yeah, exactly. Listen, Dani's back in town this weekend, and we're going out with Harry and Nick and Zayn and Perrie. Why don't you come out with us? Harry's been moping a bit that he won't get to hang out with you anymore, now that the wedding's over."

"Has he?" Louis asks, perking up a little. That's nice. "I suppose Niall and I could come out and join you, yeah." He wouldn't mind another chance to ogle Liam a bit before he meets Liam's fiancée and decides he can't plan the party that very well might ruin both of their lives.

"Great," says Liam, lighting up. Louis feels a bit guilty. Liam can't really be this excited about every single thing anyone says to him, can he? It must be exhausting. He scribbles down his number on one of Louis's carefully arranged post-it notes. "Harry's going to want to go to some dreadful hipster bar with drinks made of vapor and music that sounds like cats dying, but I think I can talk him down to a nice normal pub."

"How did you two end up friends?" Louis asks, trying not to laugh.

"I've been mates with Zayn forever, since we were kids, and then he went off to uni and came home with Harry. I love him like a brother, but he's a bit weird, yeah?" Liam grins. "I just don't want to go to any of his clubs with him, anymore."

Louis hasn't flirted in so, so long, but a little part of his brain tells him he should reply _I bet I could show you some clubs you'd enjoy_. He doesn't, though. Liam's getting married soon. Maybe. "I'll see you and Danielle this weekend, then, and we'll start planning things," he says instead. That's nice and polite and safe. 

"Thanks," says Liam, getting up. He offers Louis a handshake, which is so adorable that Louis just stares at his hand for a minute. Then he shakes it politely, and waits for Liam to leave before he collapses back into his chair and stares at the ceiling for a minute.

Niall pokes his head back in. "Single and looking to mingle?" he asks hopefully.

"Marrying his gorgeous dancer girlfriend," says Louis.

"Aww, shit," says Niall. "Don't worry, I'll find you someone, you sad bastard."

"I'm not a—" Louis starts, but Niall's already shut the door and gone again, and he doesn't ever seem to believe Louis anyway.

—

Louis's planning three other weddings, one of which is quite ridiculous. The bride wants to ride a _horse_ , which is going to ruin her dress, but whatever; Louis can make anything happen. He's exhausted, though, and he nearly cancels on the night out. Niall catches him before he can sneak out and says, "Oh, no. We're going out. Maybe Nick and Harry have a fit mate."

They do; they have Liam, Louis thinks, and then shakes his head at himself. Literally all he knows about Liam is that he's attractive; that's no basis for a relationship. He's also _straight_ , and look where that got Louis last time. "I don't need a boyfriend," says Louis.

Niall cackles a bit. "Right, sure, okay," he says. "You wearin' that out?" 

"Yes," says Louis. He looks fine. A little formal, maybe, but he'll just roll up the sleeves on his blazer to match the rolled up cuffs on his trousers. 

"It's like you don't even _want_ to get laid," says Niall mournfully. Louis flicks him on the ear.

Everyone's meeting at a nice out of the way sort of pub that's dark and quiet and looks to be full of married couples out for a nice evening. Which is what Nick and Harry are, actually, now that Louis thinks of it. No one in the pub gives them a second glance, even though Harry's mostly on Nick's lap. They're all sat round a big round table, Nick and then Harry, and then Zayn and a pretty blonde with ridiculous candy floss hair, and then Liam and his gorgeous fiancée. She's even prettier in person, and she's nearly as tall as he is when they both stand up to say hello.

"Harry's wedding was just so amazing," says Danielle.

"Yeah!" shouts Harry. "It was, wasn't it?" He grins at Louis.

"It _was_ ," says Louis definitely.

"We just need something, like, one one-millionth that cool," says Liam, offering Louis the seat next to him. Well, Louis has to sit somewhere, doesn't he? Might as well sit next to the ridiculously attractive boy with the fiancée. 

"We're not very cool, me and Liam," says Danielle, bumping Liam's shoulder and smiling at him. He grins back. Louis was sort of hoping they'd be really nasty to each other, so he'd have a reason not to do their wedding, but they're adorable. He tries to make himself believe that their wedding is going to be the beginning of a long, happy marriage, but he can't get there, either. A breakup, followed by a reconciliation and a rush to the altar, is just not a very good sign.

"The uncoolest," says Harry, in his slow, deep voice. "But maybe you can help them out?" Liam sticks his tongue out at Harry, and Harry pulls a face at him. Louis is definitely not charmed.

"You can do their wedding, and then ours," says Zayn, elbowing his girlfriend. "We get a discount for being mates, right? Not all of us are made of money, like—"

"Fuck off," laughs Harry, wadding up a serviette and throwing it at him.

"The friendship discount involves me getting you alcohol on the cheap," says Louis. "I can't make halls cheaper to hire."

"We're gonna have two weddings, though," says Zayn's girlfriend. "The big drunk party for me, and the big Muslim bash for him. Only need booze at one of those."

"He's supposed to be here to talk about _our_ wedding," says Danielle. "And me and Liam don't even drink that much."

There's a loud round of boos from everyone else at the table, and a flurry of serviettes thrown at Liam and Danielle. "Just because we're not drunk all the time, like some of you—" Liam starts, laughing.

"The booze is for us, you tit," says Nick. "So we aren't bored to death watching you and Danielle make lovey-dovey faces at each other."

Liam and Danielle turn toward each other and make exaggerated kissy faces. It's awful and adorable. Louis can't possibly do their wedding. It'll be too painful. It'll be another horror show where they're desperately in love, but with the added undercurrent of an impending breakup. 

Plus there's the part where Louis keeps admiring the span of Liam's shoulders. The way he's turned at the moment, his back to Louis so he can kiss Danielle, all Louis can see is the fabric stretching, and the flex of his biceps. Louis can't possibly do a good job on a wedding where he's daydreaming about sucking off the groom half the time.

"Louis'll do your wedding, and then Zayn and Pez's, and we'll all get to hang out forever," says Harry happily. "Right?"

Everyone looks at him. Louis tries to think of a polite way to decline, but six sets of hopeful expressions, plus Niall who mostly just looks hungry, are difficult to argue with. "It's short notice," he hedges.

"But it'll only be a tiny little ceremony somewhere," Liam says. He's got his pleading face on, and Jesus, how does anyone ever say no to that? Louis wants to lean forward and kiss him. Liam's probably never kissed a boy in his life. "Please?"

"Please?" echoes Harry. Louis shoots him a dark look. Harry grins back at him. Now that Harry's not a paying customer Louis can tell him off for being a twat, but he's probably not going to.

"C'mon, we can squeeze one more wedding in this spring," says Niall. "You've only got the one mental bride; the other two are pretty normal."

"But Danielle's away a lot," Louis says. "Right? How would we plan it?"

"Oh, Liam can do it, he knows what I like," says Danielle. "And he's got loads of free time at the end of the school year. He does music classes, and most of the kids will be off on holiday soon."

"Well, I've got _some_ work," Liam argues, laughing. 

"You two can plan it out, and he can always call me to check on things," says Danielle. "No one'll do it better than you will, Louis. Please? We _need_ you."

Oh, god. "Alright," says Louis. Everyone cheers. He tries not to let it go to his head, but... well, he does like the idea of being a hero. Particularly to Liam, who's smiling at him like Louis's just done something spectacular. "I'm expensive," Louis warns.

"Aww, you'll give us a discount," says Danielle. She squeezes Liam's cheeks. "Who could possibly resist this face?"

"Hey," Liam laughs, pulling away.

Fuck if she isn't right, Louis thinks. "I'll make it work," he says, kicking himself for agreeing to it. This is going to be a painful, awful spring. He's looking forward to it.

—

"This is one possibility," says Louis, holding his arms out.

It's a nice venue, a great big hall with a balcony, and it's attached to a hotel where they can do the ceremony itself. At the moment a lot of fussy looking women are rearranging flower pots on tables for a ladies' meeting, but it'll be lovely for a wedding.

"Hmmm," says Liam, rocking back on his heels. He's wearing a football shirt and he couldn't really look less like a groom-to-be if he tried. It's distracting Louis, but he tries to rally, looking at his phone more than he looks at Liam.

"If you want to do the wedding a year from now, we'll have lots of choices," Louis says, mildly scolding. "But in two months there's only so many options."

"Yeah, no, I just... It's sort of big?" Liam says apologetically. "Like, I don't think Dani and me know enough people to fill this hall halfway."

"You'd be amazed at how quickly the guest list expands," says Louis. "Oh god, have you even thought about a guest list? You need to send me one immediately so I can get on invitations. We need to pick colours. And a theme."

"The theme isn't just 'wedding'?" Liam asks, looking confused.

Louis shakes his head. This is why he never lets the groom do all the planning. "What's Danielle's favorite colour?"

"Blue," says Liam. "I like orange. Can we do both? Oh, or maybe a football theme, yeah?"

"No. And you aren't having a blue and orange wedding," says Louis flatly.

"Why not?" Liam asks, but he's grinning.

Louis narrows his eyes. "Are you winding me up, Liam?"

"A bit," Liam admits. 

"Why can't I swap you for Danielle?" Louis asks, sighing. "A nice, sensible, crying bride. That's what I like to work with."

Liam pulls a crying face, and then goes back to laughing. Stop it, Louis scolds him silently. Stop being adorable and ridiculous. 

"We just want something small," says Liam. "Romantic and just, y'know. Not so much a party for everyone in the world as a nice night for us and our friends. Just us and our families, no pomp or anything."

"A little church, maybe?" Louis suggests. "And a party in a garden afterwards? Some fairy lights and canopies and a string quartet?"

"That sounds dead romantic," Liam agrees. "Can you do that?"

"Liam," says Louis patiently, "I can do _anything_."

"Of course you can," Liam says, and he sounds so sincere that Louis could put his head down and cry. _Why_ can't the ones who look like Liam ever really be into dick? And why are they always taken? And why is he so _sweet_? It must be a trap.

"Colours," says Louis firmly, taking Liam's hand to pull him along out of the hall. Holding hands with Liam isn't strictly necessary, but it is nice. He's got big, warm hands. Louis hopes Danielle appreciates them. That leads him down an extremely dirty train of thought, which he manfully doesn't let himself dwell on.

Louis stops short so he won't run into one of the bustling women setting up in the hall, and Liam bangs straight into his back. He's so fucking solid that he knocks Louis forward half a step, and Louis turns and glares at him reproachfully. How _dare_ he be so fit? And especially how dare he be all pressed against Louis's back. 

"Blue," says Louis firmly, moving ahead once the path is clear of terrifying ladies in garden-themed dresses. "Blue and silver and white, I think. And red roses."

"Okay," says Liam agreeably.

"Listen, it's your wedding. You ought to have an opinion," says Louis.

Liam just shrugs. He hasn't pulled his hand free of Louis's yet. Why hasn't he done that? Is he trying to drive Louis mad? 

It's a bit rainy outside, the sort of cold spring drizzle that ruins Louis's hair and makes him wish he were wearing socks. "There's a couple of churches this way," he says. "If you want to walk?"

"We could walk, yeah," says Liam, squinting up at the clouds. "If it starts to pour, we'll just stop for a coffee somewhere."

Louis lets go of Liam's hand so he can check the map on his phone. He does not miss the warmth one bit, thank you very much. 

"So," Liam says, "What do you do when you're not planning weddings?"

Louis turns and blinks at him. He'd _swear_ Liam was trying to pull, if he weren't actively planning Liam's wedding.

"I mean, since we're all going to be mates and all," Liam says. "Harry's like that, he collects people. You think you're just meeting this slightly odd curly-haired fellow, and then suddenly you're all on a holiday in Ibiza together."

"Huh," says Louis. That does make a certain amount of sense, given the rather motley crew at Harry's wedding.

"So?" says Liam, nudging him. "What do you do for fun?"

"Oh, uh..." says Louis, because the only answer he can think of is that sometimes he goes out with Niall. "I mean, I plan parties all day, I go to loads of parties."

Liam scrunches up his face. "Like, other people's weddings? That's not really parties."

"I'm very busy," says Louis vaguely. Probably Liam doesn't go home and get drunk and shout at his exes on Facebook. "Right now I've got a bride who wants to ride a horse, so I'm taking horse-riding lessons with her. It's going to be an absolute disaster."

"Yeah, but when you're not working?" Liam looks a bit concerned. Louis can't have that.

"I play football on weekends with some mates," says Louis. He used to do that. He hasn't been in a year, but it's definitely a thing he used to do that was fun. 

"Me, too!" says Liam, lighting up. "We could play together. Harry's terrible. He's got legs like a deer that was just born. All wobbly."

Louis has a very clear vision of tackling Liam into the mud and then rolling around with him and kissing him. Absolutely not. "Maybe," he says. "Mostly I suppose I go out with Niall. He knows everyone." That is strictly true. The only time Louis goes out, it's when Niall insists. Which is, what, once a month? It's all a bit sad, and Louis's not going to cop to that. 

"Niall's amazing," says Liam. 

"Yes," says Louis. He takes a minute to catch his breath, because vivid visions of kissing other people's husbands-to-be are quite distracting. "Right, there's a cute little church down this way, it might be just the thing for you and Danielle. We'll have to hire a garden separately. Cost is no issue, right? It's usually only a few thousand pounds, but given the short-notice it'll probably be a lot more."

"What?" Liam asks, looking alarmed.

Louis grins at him. "That's what you get for winding me up earlier. Football-themed wedding. Honestly." He takes off down the pavement.

Liam has to jog to catch up with him. "Well, I would like to see how you'd do a football themed wedding."

"Immaculately," says Louis. "Then I'd throw myself out a window."

—

The first church is too big, the second church is too cold, and the third church is "too religious." 

"You aren't my only wedding, you know," says Louis, slightly huffy. 

"Aren't I supposed to want it to be perfect?" Liam asks, squinting at him. 

"Not to the point of driving me mad," says Louis. It's a perfectly nice church. Yes, the bleeding Jesus over the altar is a little bit much, but it's a _church_. 

"Dunno," says Liam. He takes out his phone and snaps a couple of pictures. "I'll email the pictures to Dani, but I don't think she'll like it." 

"On this sort of schedule she may just have to deal with it," says Louis.

"Could we, like... I don't know, make it a bit less serious?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a ridiculous person?"

He meant it to be snappish, but Liam just grins. "Yeah," he says. "Loads of people."

That takes Louis back a bit. When he shouts at someone, normally they get upset with him. "Well..." he says, and flounders. "I mean, I guess I'll have to look around and find some other options, then."

"So, are we done for today?"

"You are. I have loads of work to do, finding other churches and a garden for your party."

"Oh." Liam puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet for a minute. "I was sort of hoping you were done. We could hang out, maybe?"

"What?" says Louis. He means it to be a question, but it's more a sort of startled exclamation, as if Liam's just dropped something on his foot. He's _sure_ Liam's both straight and taken, but if he weren't sure about both of those things, he'd be sure Liam was trying to chat him up. 

"Oh, just," says Liam, with a bashful smile, "Danielle's out of town, and Harry and Nick are off doing newlywed things, and Zayn and Perrie are away for a couple of days. I'm a bit lonely."

"No," says Louis, and what he actually means is _no, this can't be happening, this sort of thing doesn't happen to me_ , but it sounds like he's turning Liam down flat, and Liam's face falls.

"Right, of course, you're busy," says Liam. 

"I am!" says Louis quickly. Maybe too quickly; it sounds a bit fake. His heart is racing for no apparent reason. "I've got loads of work. Not just for you; there's a wedding in two weeks and the bride's dress doesn't fit because the baby's going to be a bit early. And cards for the Anderson wedding, and—"

"Yeah, no, it's fine," says Liam.

Oh god, Louis didn't mean to make him _sad_. "I'm working for you," says Louis. "We're not, like... Y'know, hanging out for fun looking at churches." Is that a thing people do? It's not a thing Louis would do. Maybe Liam's a big fan of architecture?

"I know," Liam says, laughing a little. "But you're funny, and you like football, and I thought, if you were free, we could do something really exciting like go down to the pub and watch a match and have a drink. My flat's just really empty when Danielle's away."

Louis makes himself take a couple of deep breaths; his voice has gone all high-pitched and frantic, which he is _not_. He is calm, cool, and collected. "That sounds great," says Louis, in his most detached and professional voice. "Sometime. But not today, because today I'm very, very busy." There. That probably sounded completely normal. 

"You've got my number," says Liam, with a little wink. "Ring me whenever you're free, then."

 _Stop chatting me up!_ Louis thinks wildly. He _likes_ Danielle. Danielle is lovely. He'll just think about that over and over, and not about Liam winking like some sort of epically uncool wanker in a club. Which, for the record, would totally work on Louis, if it happened in a dark, sweaty, crowded room, and Liam offered him a drink to go along with it. Fuck. _Fuck._

"Right," says Louis. "Okay. I will." He won't. Good lord, he can't imagine having a few drinks with Liam, not thinking about work, just getting a bit drunk and handsy while Liam's fiancée is out of town. There are giant blinking 'disaster!!!' signs all over Louis's brain right now. 

"Great," says Liam, grinning. He punches Louis in the arm in a friendly sort of way, and Louis points him toward the nearest tube entrance. Liam hasn't got much of an arse, Louis notices as he walks away, but his jeans are hanging so low that Louis can see the way his black pants are clinging, and it's _very distracting_. 

Louis is apparently a really wretched person. "Danielle, Danielle, Danielle," he mutters to himself, as if that's the problem, and not that Liam is just really friendly and sweet, but zero percent interested in cock. 

Louis could _introduce_ him to it, though. There's nothing quite as much fun as showing a formerly straight boy how to suck cock. And then —

No, terrible, Louis tells himself firmly. His phone buzzes with a crisis in the Anderson wedding, and Louis has never been more grateful for a distraction in his life.

—

When Louis gets back to the office, he deals with half of the Anderson problem, but has clearly not dealt with Niall. Niall grins at him, the sort of toothy grin that means terrible things are happening, and Louis isn't in on the joke.

"What?" says Louis.

"I'm gettin' you a boyfriend!" says Niall.

"No," says Louis, as firmly as he can.

Firm has zero effect on Niall. Of course it doesn't. Louis rather prefers when _he's_ the one with the mad idea, and Niall goes along with it. Niall's schemes tend to end up weird. 

"Yeah, me and Harry talked about it. We're gonna find you someone nice." Niall looks smug. 

"I don't want someone nice," says Louis, throwing his bag on a chair and turning on his laptop. "What would I do with someone nice?"

"Fair point," says Niall. He squints at Louis for a minute. "Are you alright? You look a bit rattled."

"Just… had a weird appointment with a client," says Louis, thinking about Liam sitting alone on his sofa. Louis could go over, and Liam would invite him to sit down, and after a couple of beers Louis could cuddle into Liam's space and—"Just a weird day," says Louis.

"Was it Liam?" Niall asks. "Is this because he's your type?"

Louis gapes for a minute. "He's not my type, he's –" _Straight_ , his brain supplies. "—taken," Louis says, after a minute of floundering.

"I meant more, kind of goofy, thinks you're hilarious, shoulders like a brick wall," says Niall.

"He's _getting married_ ," says Louis.

Niall pulls a complicated face. "But I mean… is he?"

"Yes," says Louis. "He and Danielle are very much in love."

"You shook your head while you said that."

"I did not!" Damn it. Did he? "I have work to do. Don't you have work to do?" He looks pleadingly at Niall.

"Nope," says Niall cheerfully. "Just chatting to Harry on the phone about finding you a boyfriend all morning." 

Louis doesn't _want_ anyone to find him a boyfriend. Every time it ends so badly that he doesn't want to deal with it ever, ever again. It's actually probably much safer to sit around daydreaming about Liam, who is as off the table as he can possibly get. "Well, I'm very very very busy," says Louis. "So go away."

"Leave room for a date on Wednesday!" Niall shouts, going back to his own desk.

"I'm busy Wednesday. I'm washing my hair," says Louis.

Niall cackles, "You're so _stupid_." 

"Help me figure out how we're going to get a horse to a garden party," says Louis, ignoring him. "Can we pretend it's a dog when the police arrive?"

"Sure, we'll just say we splashed some water on him and he got a lot bigger than we expected." Niall gives Louis a look that makes it clear just how stupid Niall thinks Louis actually is. But Louis doesn't mind, because Niall will, eventually, help him figure out how to get a horse to a garden party. Niall's great about that. 

"And help me think of a nice, out-of-the-way church for Liam and Danielle," Louis says.

Niall pointedly says nothing for a minute.

"They are _definitely getting married_ and I am _really happy for them_ ," Louis says.

"Right," Niall agrees. "Okay, sure. Now, when I tell Harry to start looking for boys for you, should I tell him to start with Liam's relatives, or just have him try and clone him?"

Louis throws pens at Niall until Niall leaves his office. It's a hollow victory. 

—

Louis doesn't call Liam, but a couple of days later, Harry shows up at his office. "Hello," he says. "Let's go out and have a drink."

"These envelopes are lilac and they're meant to be lavender," says Louis, holding one up to wave it around. "I'm having a _crisis_."

Harry nods like he's really thinking about that. "Okay," he says. "Let's go out and have two drinks."

Louis has never actually hung out with anyone after he arranged their wedding; that's usually the end of their relationship. But he goes with Harry to a hilariously pretentious bar and doesn't feel especially weird about it.

Harry holds a cherry up by the stem and attempts to dangle it in what Louis thinks is meant to be a sexy way. Harry's tongue is too long and his face is too silly. 

"How on earth did you get anyone to marry you?" Louis asks.

Harry grins and eats the cherry anyway. "Nick thinks I'm cool," he says, unruffled.

"Wrong," says Louis. "Nick thinks you're _cute_."

"Nick thinks I'll have sex with him," says Harry, and his grin goes sly. "And he's right about that."

"This is why I don't hang out with clients after they're married," says Louis loudly to the barman. "Disgusting smug couples. Who needs them?"

Harry just laughs and elbows him in the side. "So, what d'you like about the job most?" Harry asks eventually. "Is it planning stuff out and getting it all, like, organized properly? Or is it knowing you put together a million little pieces and they all worked out perfectly? Or is the true love bits?"

"Bleh, true love," says Louis, pretend-kidding, and Harry laughs again. "I guess I like that people are happy afterward. I like always having a party to go to, too."

"I was on the phone before," says Harry, apparently unconnected to anything Louis's just said. "And like, I talked to Niall. And it was nice and all."

"Do you have a point?" 

Harry gives him a look, a little disapproving. "Yeah. So Niall and me, we were chatting, right, and he says you plan all these weddings but you won't go on dates anymore."

" _Why_ is everyone so interested in the fact that I don't go on dates? Loads of people don't go on dates. Shut ins, and agoraphobics, and cat ladies, and confirmed bachelors. If I get a cat will you all leave off?"

"If you get a cat and a boyfriend, yeah," says Harry, with a lopsided grin. "Now I'm a smug married, I want _everyone_ to be a smug married."

"No, thank you," says Louis, and finishes off his drink, waving to the barman for another.

"I might know someone really cool," says Harry.

 _You might know someone terribly uncool_ , Louis thinks, picturing Liam's terrible wink again. "No," he says. 

"But why not? Nick and me are really happy," says Harry. "D'y'know, we've had sex in his DJ booth? While he was on air."

"Disgusting," says Louis admiringly. "Let's talk about something else. Tell me why Danielle and Liam broke up the first time." Whoops, how did that slip out? Louis doesn't want the answer to that, except that he desperately does. 

Harry pulls a complicated face. 

"Don't tell me," says Louis quickly. "None of my business. They're happy now, anyway."

Harry's face settles into… Well, Louis can't tell _what_ Harry's thinking. "She's away a lot. And she's a couple of years older than he is. They like a lot of the same silly things, but they aren't always serious about the same things."

"Has anyone ever told you you're madenningly vague?" Louis asks.

Harry laughs with his whole body. "Yeah," he says.

"That was a terrible question I just asked. Let's talk about something less awful. How about football, then?"

"If you want to talk about that, we should call Liam up," says Harry. "He's probably bored at home anyway. Should we—"

" _No,_ " says Louis firmly. "Let's go back to you and Nick shagging. In the booth, you say?"

Harry laughs, and after a minute Louis laughs, too. They can be friends, Louis thinks; proper friends. But he has to get Niall and everyone else off his back. He's not lonely. He's perfectly satisfied. Better off alone, really; he can keep his flat as messy as he likes, he doesn't have to tell anyone that he's gone out for a drink, and he doesn't need to try and impress anyone, ever. Of course, he is rather impressive, obviously; not everyone can drink as much as he can, and still stay on a barstool well balanced. And he's got an excellent bum. It's a pity Liam will never appreciate it. 

"You appreciate my bum, right?" Louis asks.

Harry nods seriously. "Of course."

"Good," says Louis, starting in on his next drink. "That's a solid foundation for a friendship."

"Nice and solid," says Harry, leering a bit. Louis elbows him, and Harry laughs, and fine; maybe this is better than drinking at home alone.

—

There's an ant problem in the building, which Louis ignores until Niall sees a trail of the horrible little things crawling all over the floor underneath his desk, making a bee line (an ant-line?) for the cake samples Niall keeps in his drawer. Louis can't _abide_ insects, so he decides they'll have to take everything out of the office and put it in the hallway, kill every possibly living thing in the office, and then move it all back in.

The weather decides to be warmish and clammy, which makes shoving Louis and Niall's desks and filing cabinets out into the hallway miserable. Louis sweats through his t-shirt so he pulls it off; Niall's been mostly naked since they started.

"Are you sure they worked?" Niall asks dubiously. They put down traps and let off a fog bomb and closed all the doors for a couple of hours, while they tried to work in the hall and Louis made all the other people who work in the building clamber over his filing cabinets and avoid getting run over when he wheeled his chair up and down the halls out of boredom. 

"They'd better have," says Louis.

The office smells terrible when they open the door; Louis holds his breath and races in to open all the windows. The air is heavy and oppressive and damp, and his fringe is stuck to his forehead. Louis flaps his arms around until the air begins to clear again. He doesn't _see_ any ants. 

"No more food in the desk," says Louis firmly.

"I'll starve to death," Niall whines. 

"No more nicking the cake samples," Louis repeats. "We'll go out for lunch instead."

Niall perks up. "Can I have a sandwich?"

"As soon as we get all the furniture back in the office," says Louis, a bit grimly. It's going to be sweaty, sticky work moving the desks, but they can't live in the hallway forever.

He and Niall manage to get one of the desks in, but everything seems heavier than it did when he was moving it out. One of the filing cabinets is apparently glued to the floor now; Louis struggles and shoves at it and it simply won't budge.

"Need a hand?" asks a familiar voice. Louis stops trying to throw his back out and looks up at Liam, who's giving him an affectionate sort of smile. 

"No," says Louis, just as Niall shouts, "Yes! Thank Christ."

"Here, let me," says Liam. He picks up the filing cabinet. It's a struggle for him as well, Louis notes with dark satisfaction. Then he sees the way Liam's arms bulge as he lifts it, and how enormous his hands are, and the way it makes his shoulders strain against his t-shirt.

Louis tries to say _It goes right in there_ and instead makes a funny sort of rasping noise.

"Over here," says Niall, pointing. He rolls his eyes at Louis. 

"I could have done that," Louis says, when his voice comes back. "What are you doing here?"

"We have an appointment to taste cupcakes," says Liam cheerfully. "What else can I help with? It smells foul in your office. Shall I take my shirt off, as well?"

Louis feels his face go a bit like a robot that's just pulled its cord out of the wall unexpectedly. Just. Nothing. 

"If you like," says Niall, with a sly grin at Louis.

"Nrg," says Louis, because Liam goes and pulls his t-shirt off and smiles at him. Louis sits down in his rolling chair. It's got awfully hot in the hallway suddenly. 

"You can help me with this desk," says Niall. He gets his shoulder under one side of it, and Liam gets his under the other side, and they hoist the desk whilst making all manner of grunting noises at each other. 

Louis does not sit there, thinking about how Liam's arms would look if he was holding himself up over Louis, sweat dripping down his forehead, biting his lip like that, making _that noise_ , with his big hands running up Louis's chest, and his red, wet mouth opening like that, chest heaving —

Shit. Louis has to shift in the chair a little and adjust himself, and he hopes it's not totally obvious. But _who allowed_ Liam to have veins like those in his arms? 

"Don't help or anything!" Niall shouts. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," says Louis, trying to stop his voice from sounding quite so husky. He clears his throat. "I'm wheeling the chair in and we're done, right?"

"Oh, I suppose you want me to put things back where they actually go all by myself," Niall grumbles. "While you two go off and eat cupcakes."

"Sounds great," says Liam, popping back into the hall. He's sweaty and grinning and flushed and Louis can't possibly have a normal cake tasting with him. He wants to _lick_ him. There's a rivulet of sweat going down the middle of Liam's back. His jeans are low again, and Louis can see the dimples of his spine as he leans over to move some of their folders. When he straightens up one of the sweat droplets vanishes under the waistband of his pants, and Louis wants to follow it with his tongue. "I can definitely eat a ton of cupcakes now. I'm gonna text Danielle, so she can see pictures."

Danielle. Right. That's why Louis can't just jump on Liam and hold him down and lick him. He makes himself take a deep breath. "Let's go and sample cupcakes," he says. "Put your shirt back on."

"You put on yours," says Liam, with a grin.

Louis reminds himself firmly that Liam is _not_ chatting him up, he's just... Weird. "Deal," says Louis. He wheels himself into the office and grabs his shirt off the desk and pulls it over his head. It makes his hair stick up funny, and Liam laughs while Louis fixes it.

"You look fine," says Liam.

"I look better than _fine_ ," Louis grumbles.

Liam puts his shirt back on. That should be the opposite of erotic, it should be like a cold shower, but instead Louis is mostly thinking about how Liam would look getting dressed when he left Louis's flat after a long night of shagging. Would he sneak out in the middle of the night and never call again? Louis's had a couple of those. Liam seems too nice for that.

"Danielle," says Louis out loud.

"Yeah, I'm gonna call her," says Liam, pulling out his phone. "You sure you're alright?" He says this last part to Niall, who is carrying armfuls of files.

"Yeah, get out of here, go on your cupcake date," Niall says.

Louis freezes a bit, and gives Niall a look that would peel paint off the walls. It's one thing for him to tease Louis about it in private, or for Louis to imagine Liam pushing him down into a mattress in the comfort of his own brain. But Niall can't say things like that _out loud_.

Liam laughs. "It does sound like a date me and Danielle would go on," he says easily. "Shall we?" 

"Yeah," says Louis. He feels a bit strangled, but he's going to be a professional. Really. Any minute now. Seriously. 

—

Liam spends the entire cupcake tasting on the phone with Danielle. He facetimes her, and then sets the phone up on a little stand, so it's like Louis's got both of them out with him. Except Danielle can't taste any of the food, obviously, so Liam has to make a big show for the phone of what all the flavors are, and if he likes them, and if he thinks her mum will like them. She laughs and tells him he's got icing on his nose, and he tries to lick it off and crosses his eyes. They're so _cute_.

Louis could do with one-hundred-percent less "Liam licking things very carefully." Some of the ways he samples icing involve swirling his tongue around slowly so he can tell Danielle if it's lemony enough. Louis hates it, except for how he loves it. He should apologize to Danielle, really, because tonight when he's lying in bed _not_ being lonely, he's going to think about Liam's tongue flattening out against his spine like it does across the top of that cupcake, and licking its way down to—

"Do you like the flowers?" Louis asks loudly, interrupting his own train of thought.

"They're alright," says Danielle. "I like something really girly."

"Ugh, babe," says Liam, pulling a face. "I need a glass of water. You want one?"

"Yeah," says Louis. His mouth is dry. 

Liam gets up and goes to the counter to get glasses. 

That leaves Louis alone at the table with Danielle-in-the-phone. "How's the tour?" he asks.

"I'm tired," says Danielle. "I miss being home. Is Liam lonely? He always gets a bit mopey when I'm away. I keep hoping it'll get easier, and it never does. But he said you've been hanging out, looking after him. Thank you." She smiles.

Louis feels stabbed in the heart with guilt. "Don't thank me," he says. "Liam wanted to go have a pint and watch a match and I've been too busy." _And too busy thinking about him naked._

"He'd try and make friends with a door, honestly," says Danielle, laughing. "Isn't he sweet?"

"The sweetest," Louis agrees. 

"You're sweet as well," Danielle says.

"It's all the cupcakes, I can't help it."

Danielle laughs. "Really, he told me how great you are, how much fun these appointments have been, when really he was dreading them. And you've given him something to do so he isn't just sat at home alone."

Liam comes back with two glasses of water. "What's that?" he asks. "Sorry I didn't get you one, babe."

"You dork," she says fondly. "I'm gonna go, we have a meeting. Love you."

"Love you, too," says Liam, and clicks the phone off. "I wish she'd come home. It's exhausting trying to be a perfect boyfriend all the time on her behalf."

Louis can't stop himself from snorting, "Perfect boyfriend," in a particularly skeptical voice.

"What?" Liam asks, pretending to be wounded. "I said _trying_."

"There's no such thing, is there?" Louis asks. Liam raises an eyebrow. "I – I mean, no one's perfect," Louis says, catching himself. "She's lucky to have a halfway decent boyfriend."

"I can do better than that," says Liam. "It’s just easier when she's around. Who's giving her a foot rub after a long day of rehearsals? Or getting her her favorite takeaway 'just because'?"

Louis stares at Liam in astonishment. He's joking, isn't he? He must be. "She'll be home to try on dresses next week," Louis says, ignoring him. "Right? Not that I can get many samples on such short notice, but at least she's a sample size."

"I'm just... I hate it when she's gone, and she's _always_ gone." Liam looks a bit sad. And lonely. Danielle just _thanked_ Louis for looking after him. 

"I'm busy ordering carefully mismatched lavender and white centerpieces tonight," Louis says, because he can't actually stop himself. "But if you're free we could go and get a pint tomorrow, maybe?"

Liam lights up like Christmas. Oh, it's so horribly unfair. Louis doesn't want to get a friendly pint with him, he wants to meet him in a bar, and pull, and wake up with Liam's jeans on his floor next to his bed. "Great!" Liam says. 

"Great," Louis echoes. He'll have to put ice down his pants or something. "So, which cupcakes, then? Definitely the lemon ones?"

"Lemon, and the chocolate," says Liam. "Danielle'll like those."

"We really need to consider Danielle," Louis says.

Liam gives him a funny look. "Yeah," he says. "I know."

"Let's just try and keep that in mind, then," says Louis grimly, and goes to place the cupcake order with the bakery.

—

Louis doesn't know what to wear out to a bar to meet Liam. He doesn't want to look nice, except he absolutely definitely _does_. It's not a date, so he shouldn't dress up, but oh god, he wants to look as fit as possible, just in case... Well, just in case nothing, is the problem. 

In the end, there's a crisis with centerpieces for the Andersons, and he ends up running so late he can't even change out of his button up into something a bit more "going down to the pub for a pint." He does his hair, though. He's got _some_ standards.

Liam's got a table and a drink that definitely looks more like Coke than beer. "I knew you wouldn't stand me up," he says, smiling brightly at Louis.

 _Not a date_ , Louis says firmly to himself. Liam's wearing a t-shirt, looking relaxed and cute in a way that confuses Louis; someone oughtn't be so fit and also so adorable. One or the other.

"Nice drink," he says, sitting down. 

"I told you, I don't drink much," says Liam. "Can't invite someone out to join me for a Coke, though, can I?"

"That would be a bit sad," Louis agrees. He gets two pints at the bar, because he needs as much alcohol as he can get, as quickly as possible. Then he joins Liam at the table. "Are you really this bored? You're wasting one of your last bachelor evenings with your wedding planner."

Liam grins. "I'm not much good at bachelor evenings. I like going home to someone. Or out with someone who won't be as... interesting as Harry can be."

"Interesting, eh?" he says. "Danielle doesn't like it when you go out with interesting people?"

Liam's whole face crinkles up when he laughs. "She's more interesting than I am. She's probably out with a bunch of dancers at a club right now. She loves going out, and I love staying in."

Louis wants badly for there to be something awful about Danielle so he can dislike her, and justify the daydream he's trying to have about the way Liam's thumb is rubbing up and down on his cold glass. If she were jealous or controlling or shrill he wouldn't feel nearly as bad that he keeps imagining Liam's thumb rubbing on something else entirely. 

"You must have hobbies while she's away."

Liam looks like he's considering for a minute. "I do tidy a lot while she's gone," he says finally.

"Tidying is not a hobby," says Louis. He revises his fantasy; they can't go back to his flat, because Liam would be horrified at the mess. They'll have to go to Liam's flat, and Louis will sneak out in the middle of the night after Liam's fallen asleep. 

Louis can't imagine waking up with Liam. His imagination isn't that good. He can imagine straddling Liam, and kissing Liam, and getting Liam to touch him all over. But he can't imagine actually lying around with Liam in the morning, sleepy and comfortable. It's too much. Louis can't really imagine being that happy with anyone. 

"I like to tidy," says Liam, slightly wounded. "You're organized, aren't you? You can't have messy weddings."

"I'm quite sorted at work," Louis agrees. And then just… doesn't go on, because Liam doesn't need to know what his flat looks like, when Niall doesn't even know. 

"I'd like to learn to cook," says Liam. "As a hobby, I mean. It'd be nice if I could make biscuits when she comes home."

Louis needs desperately for Liam to be less sweet about Danielle. "How many of them would you eat before she ever got there?"

"Most of them," Liam says, and grins. "You can help me eat all the burnt ones."

"I'll lick the crumbs, I suppose," says Louis sourly.

Liam tilts his head and smiles again. "Do you like to lick things?" he asks, sounding nearly serious.

"Oh, desperately," Louis says. _Don't say cock. Don't say_ his _cock_. "That's what I do when I'm not working."

"Maybe I should take that up," says Liam. 

For a minute Louis just hears a rushing noise in his ears that drowns out everything else. 

"—think Danielle would probably like that, don’t you?" Liam asks, when Louis can hear again.

"Yes," says Louis. He has no idea what he's just agreed to. 

"Me, too," Liam beams. 

Louis should say something intelligent but his brain has stuck on a loop of Liam licking things. There are so many things that Liam could lick. Louis drains the rest of his beer in a slightly too large gulp that makes him choke and then tries to adjust himself without it being too obvious. It's time to start in on the second pint, not a moment too soon.

"While Danielle's gone I could do dirty things," Liam muses. Louis chokes quite badly on his beer. "BMX biking," Liam goes on, blithely unaware. "Last time I was covered in mud and banged my knee up. Dani was furious."

"I like biking," says Louis. He sounds inane but that's okay, because his brain feels like it's switched off.

"Yeah? I like nearly everything outdoors," says Liam. 

"Football, biking… I went surfing on holiday once; it was sick," says Louis.

"Oh god, I'd _love_ to go surfing," says Liam. He lights up as if Louis is a present. "Next time Dani's out of town we should go."

Louis is not going to spend a day with Liam all wet and wearing skin-tight spandex. Absolutely not. "Yeah," he says. "After the wedding, when you've got spare time." By then maybe Liam will be distracted being a newlywed and he'll forget all about it. He and Danielle can start trying to have babies or something. Louis can go back to his normal life where he'd be home with a bottle of wine and a DVD of The Notebook. Or something less sad than that. A DVD of the Hangover, say. And two bottles of whiskey.

"You're drinking a lot tonight," says Liam cheerfully. "Should I have one?"

"Yes," says Louis, and then, "No." If Liam gets drunk and giggly, Louis will take advantage of him, and that's not alright. 

"Very decisive," says Liam, laughing.

"If you don't like to drink, don't drink," says Louis. There, that's one thing wrong with Liam. Louis can't possibly date anyone who doesn't drink. Liam probably thinks Louis is a drunk.

"I drink sometimes," says Liam, with a conspiratorial little smile. "I used to have a kidney thing, but now I can drink if I want to. And I think I fancy a drink."

Oh god; he's trying to impress Louis. Or make him feel less alone. Louis can tell; Liam's got that expression on that says he's being kind. Louis doesn't want anyone to be kind to him. It feels like needles under his skin.

"If I got drunk, you'd carry me home, right?" says Liam cheerfully.

"Don't tempt me," says Louis. Liam laughs, although Louis's not joking. "Just... don't get drunk, okay? I don't want to tell Danielle that I'm the reason you're hungover and grumpy."

"She'd just laugh at me," says Liam, as if it barely matters. Maybe it doesn't. She won't be home to complain about it, anyway. Liam's going home tonight to his empty bed. 

Louis would happily go with him.

"If you're having one, then I'm having another," says Louis.

"Maybe _I'll_ carry _you_ home," Liam says.

Louis bites his tongue so he won't say anything at all.

In the end Liam only has one drink, and Louis is sober enough to get home under his own power. "Thanks for coming out tonight," says Liam, so _so_ earnestly that it breaks Louis's heart a little.

"We have to find you some more friends," says Louis. He'll distract Liam with other people and then he can be alone to mope and wail about the cruelty of the universe.

"But I've already got as many as I need," says Liam, with a crooked, honest smile, and then he gets into a cab and heads home. 

Louis's chest hurts, but he ignores it in favor of going home to his disaster of a flat and sleeping on the sofa with his shoes still on.

—

Louis's phone rings as he's trying to sort out a problem where ice has been delivered to the wrong hall on the wrong High Street. He's spent most of the afternoon shouting at people, which always leaves him a bit snappish.

"Yes?" he demands.

"Stressful day?" asks Danielle's cheerful voice. 

Louis drops his voice to a soothing register, because most brides who call are upset about something — their mum has suddenly announced she'll only pay for the wedding if her new boyfriend can give the bride away, the dress doesn't fit, the groom's best man has thrown up in a cupboard all over the flowers. Danielle makes Louis feel terrible and guilty, especially when he can see all the cracks in her relationship with Liam now that he's hung out with him. They might not even make it to the altar, and Louis isn't allowed to be happy about it. The least he can do is be a bit comforting. "Just a mix up with some ice. What can I do for you? We've got wedding dresses to try on tomorrow, right? You aren't suddenly coming over with cold feet?" He hopes he doesn't sound hopeful about that.

She laughs. "No, I'm still set to get married. And to try on dresses. Nick is going to come with us. That'll be a laugh."

Louis would say that Liam and Danielle have been his least stressful couple ever, except for how they stress him out endlessly all the time. "Then what can I do for you?" 

"I'm a bit worried about Liam."

The bottom drops out of Louis's stomach for a moment. He knows Liam phones her all the time, and it sounds like Liam tells her absolutely everything he gets up to; has she listened to Liam babble on cheerfully about going to the pub with Louis and got suspicious? Has she somehow realized that Louis can't look at Liam without licking his neck in his imagination? 

"Worried?" Louis parrots back, voice tighter than he means it to be.

"Oh, I just know he's a bit nervous about all the dancing. He's not much of a dancer, really. He wants the first dance to be one of those fancy choreographed things, but every time he starts talking about it he gets really concerned. And he won't ask me to show him how, because I think it's meant to be a surprise." She says this fondly, as if Louis will know that Liam is terrible at surprises. Louis can't really imagine Liam keeping secrets; not with those eyebrows. 

"A romantic first dance sounds lovely," Louis says. "Do you want me to talk him into it?"

She laughs. "No, I want you to take him to dance classes for me. Pretend it's your idea. Show him some romantic moves so he can stop whinging about how he doesn't know what to do."

For a moment Louis can't process that idea. "You want me to take your fiancé dancing?" he says. Because pub dates aren't enough, apparently?

"Well, I can't say anything without spoiling the surprise. Just show him how to do a slow dance, help him get some confidence, yeah? You must do this for other weddings."

"Normally the couple come dancing together," says Louis.

"You can pretend to be me while I'm away," says Danielle, as if this is the most wonderful thing she's ever thought of. "He'll need a partner, and he just adores you."

Louis counts backwards from ten. He is being _tormented_ , and it isn't very nice of the universe. He assumes that Liam, the straightest boy alive, and his charming fiancée, have put him neatly in the box marked "gay and therefore not a threat to anyone, ever," the way gay best friends in movies are always around for sassy pronouncements, but not to actually _do_ anything. For a minute he resents it terribly; he'd like to crowd Liam up against a wall and show him just how much of a threat Louis could be. He's nearly sure Liam's always been the one who makes the first move, and he'd probably be completely thrown if Louis decided to get aggressive. Wouldn't he be surprised?

But that's unprofessional, and anyway Louis's stuck because he _likes_ Danielle. "I'll see if I can fit dancing in to our busy schedule of deciding on tablecloths and centerpieces," he says instead. 

"Thanks, you're the best. You can grab him when he's at work at school, make it a proper surprise. I'll email you directions. See you Friday!"

"Bye," Louis says, as she rings off. He puts his phone down for a minute and stares at it, and then shouts for Niall. "Set up a dance lesson for Liam for next week, yeah? I'm going to take him so he can surprise Danielle."

Niall grins and sticks out his tongue. "You gonna take him in for a bit of the old—" he says, and then does a truly dirty couple of hip thrusts, while grunting loudly.

"I think he probably knows how to do _that_ already," says Louis.

"Bet you could still teach him a thing or two," Niall says loyally.

Oh god, Louis probably could. He's taken straight boys home from clubs a couple of times, and they tend to think that sex just involves a lot of grunting and then it's done. They lack technique, and Louis's got that in spades.

"Dancing," says Louis firmly. "The vertical sort."

"Boooo," says Niall, and presumably goes off to make the appointment.

Louis needs to do something wickedly naughty or he's going to explode. He could deliberately accidentally dye a bride's hair pink, or set off doves at a wedding where she's brought her cat to be the ring bearer. _Something._ He feels like a fizzy drink that's been shaken up and there's no way to let all the bubbles out without throwing himself off a building, screaming.

"I'm going to get a tattoo!" Louis shouts to Niall. "Cancel everything for this afternoon."

"Another one?" Niall asks, frowning a bit disapprovingly as Louis walks by. "Like, a doodle again, or a proper one?"

"A giant bleeding heart, dripping all down my chest," says Louis. Niall recoils. "Or a pirate ship. Harry would come with me to get a pirate tattoo, wouldn't he?"

"Both of you are so dumb," says Niall, shaking his head, but Louis's already out the door and phoning Harry.

—

Louis gets a pirate skull and crossbones. He feels a bit like a pirate; he does think constantly about raiding someone else's booty. (In this rather confusing metaphor-slash-day dream, Louis swings aboard whatever Royal Naval ship Liam and Danielle are onboard, and then startles everyone by grabbing Liam around the waist and swinging back to his own ship again. Since it's just a fantasy he can pick Liam up rather easily, and Liam swoons, and Danielle fires shots into the air with her musket, and then Liam and Louis sail off to a life of adventure and piracy and planning weddings at sea. Louis has a rather loose grasp on history outside of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.)

"Wicked," says Harry admiringly. Louis doesn't explain what the tattoo is about, but the pain helps him feel settled back into his own skin again.

—

"How do I look?" Danielle asks.

She looks stunning. Ravishing. Amazing. Wonderful.

"I'd look better in it," says Nick. 

Everyone looks at his rather skinny legs for a minute. "You might," Louis admits. "You haven't got tits, though. So I think Danielle wins on that count."

"Yes," says Danielle, pushing hers up to show them off a bit. It's a low-cut dress, skin-tight all over, and she's got an amazing figure, obviously.

"I want to try on a dress," says Nick loudly. "Where's a pink dress for me?"

"Pink?" Louis asks.

"Well, I'm not wearing _white_ ," Nick leers.

"Louis, give me something to throw at him," Danielle orders. "Can we focus, please? How do I look? Is Liam going to die? I want him to drop dead on the spot." She puts her hands on her hips and poses a bit.

"Speaking as a married man, I don't like to speculate," says Nick primly. 

The woman bringing Danielle dresses wrings her hands a bit. "You look wonderful," she says. "This really suits you."

"And we haven't got many dresses that can be altered and ready by the wedding date," Louis adds pragmatically. "So you'd better like one of them."

"I like this one," says Danielle, turning to check her bum out in the mirror. It looks great. Liam is lucky guy. Louis tells himself that a couple of times just as a reminder. "But I want to try one that's poofy. Why shouldn't I be a princess?"

"I have just the thing," says the sales lady, and bustles off to the back. 

"I didn't get to wear a fancy princess dress," Nick complains. "Louis, I want a do-over."

"You and Harry can renew your vows and you can wear as many big pink cupcake dresses as you'd like," says Louis soothingly. Nick is either incredibly charming or incredibly infuriating, depending on what minute of the day it is.

"You try on a princess dress and I'll try on that one," says Nick. He grabs Danielle's hand and pulls her back to the dressing rooms.

Louis is more tired than he ought to be. It's exhausting, double-checking himself to make sure he hasn't sabotaged Danielle somehow. He doesn't _plan_ on it, but he's a little afraid he might subconsciously try and make her look terrible so Liam won't want to marry her. That would be absolutely shit of him. The problem is that Louis's been a shit to people often enough to worry he might do it again.

Louis closes his eyes for just a minute and naturally that's when his phone buzzes. It's probably the soon-to-be Mrs. Anderson, who's been frantic over her pedicure all morning. 

_Heyyyyyy hows it goingggg did u findd a dres yet?_

He isn't charmed by Liam's complete lack of spelling. He _isn't_.

_Maybe. The groom isn't supposed to know anyway. :)_

Is the smiley face too much? They're friends, sort of. He's almost sure a smiley face doesn't explicitly send the message "and I'd like to suck your dick."

Liam sends back a series of sad faces and tragic emojis. Louis has to stifle a laugh. Damn it, why is Liam so cute? 

_Go away; I'm working._ Maybe it'll be better if he's a little bit mean to Liam. That might be discouraging.

His phone buzzes again. _Louisssssssss :(_

"What are you laughing at? It had better not be me," says Danielle, coming out in a dress that's made of enough tulle to make her skirt look like a very beautiful umbrella. 

"No, of course not," says Louis. "Liam was just harassing me by text."

"That's sweet," says Danielle. She frowns critically at herself. "I don't think this is the dress for me, is it?"

"No," says Louis, not unkindly. "The other one suited you much better. This one is a bit... floofy."

She giggles. "Did you learn that sort of technical term at wedding planner school?"

"Luckily, you're a client, so I will forbear from mocking you in return," says Louis grandly.

"Don't be silly; we're all friends. You, me, and Liam. Go ahead and mock. I look ridiculous."

"You do," Louis agrees, even as his heart twinges slightly at being Liam and Danielle's friend, when his thoughts go so far beyond friendly.

Nick comes out in a dress dripping in crystals and lace. It's short in the front and long in the back, and it shows off his legs rather nicely. "What do you think?" he asks, primping by the mirror. 

"You aren't allowed to look fitter than me," says Danielle firmly.

"I can't help it, love. I wish this dress came in other colors. Louis, snap a picture and send it to Harry."

"I don't want to be part of your weird role-playing games," Louis says, but he takes the picture anyway and texts it on. Sometimes his job is very strange. 

—

Louis thinks it should be harder to wander into a primary school when you aren't a teacher, but he gets to the primary school where Liam teaches, apparently, and no one gives him a second look. A harried looking teacher directs him outside to a portacabin where music classes are held. The door is open, so Louis can hear Liam singing and playing the guitar before he even gets to the room, and when he does he feels faint.

Liam is sat on a chair with a guitar on his lap, leading a group of tiny children on the floor in some song about Columbus, whilst they enthusiastically bang tambourines and little plastic drums. Liam's grinning at them, with the sort of big sincere smile he excels at, and it's _not fair_. Louis loves kids, he's got four little sisters, and Liam looks so at home with them. 

Liam looks up and sees him and smiles wider, somehow, eyes crinkling up, and Louis has to lean against the doorframe so he won't fall over. How can Danielle stand to be away? Has she ever seen this? Louis would marry Liam a hundred times over and just lurk in the back of his classroom when he teaches tiny children to clap as near to the beat as they can get.

If Louis ever planned on getting married, that is, obviously.

"If you know it, you have to sing along," says Liam, pretending to be stern. There is a high pitched chorus of, "You _have_ to!" from the children.

"I don't," says Louis gratefully, because his mouth has gone dry and he can barely speak, let alone sing. It isn't right to have dirty thoughts about Liam's hands when he's holding a guitar for _children_ , for christ's sake. And yet Louis is. They're just really large, is all. 

There's a teacher at the back of the room, and she gives Louis a rather dubious look before she gathers up the children and promises that Liam will be back again next week. Louis wonders how many of the teachers are thinking the same dirty things about Liam that he is right now. The children seem bitterly disappointed, and one little girl pretends to cry, before she's distracted by a boy hitting her. 

When they've gone, Liam puts his guitar away and gives Louis a friendly smile. It makes Louis's heart clench, but he ignores it sternly. "I do proper music lessons for the bigger ones," Liam says. "But I like the little ones better. They don't mind if they get something wrong, they just like to be loud."

"Yes, I noticed," says Louis. He hopes he sounds appropriately arch. He probably sounds disgustingly charmed. 

"What's up?" Liam asks. 

It takes Louis a minute. He can't say _just fucking kiss me_ because they're in a school, for one thing, and Liam's marrying Danielle for another. So he has to train his thoughts back in line as if his brain is a very naughty puppy. 

"I've got a surprise for you," Louis says. "Danielle said I could find you here. Come on."

"Oooh, a surprise," says Liam. "Lead on."

They take Louis's car, and Liam explains enthusiastically about all the things he's taught the children this year. Louis tries not to listen. It's self-defense, really. He thinks sternly about the Anderson wedding, and whether or not he'll need to hire someone to clean up after the horse, and he _doesn't_ picture Liam being endlessly patient with children, because that way lies some sort of heart attack or nervous breakdown.

Eventually Louis parks and leads Liam up the path toward the dance studio. "Where are we going?" Liam asks. 

Louis wishes that Liam had said that before he agreed to come with Louis. He's so _trusting_. It's upsetting, and it makes Louis want to needle him and abuse him and see what it takes to make him stop smiling that crinkly-eyed fond smile and look annoyed. Louis does _not_ want to blindfold Liam and then make him guess where Louis's going to kiss him next. What an absurd thing to even consider. Louis's not considering it at all.

"It's a surprise, I told you," says Louis. His hands have got a bit sweaty so he rubs them on his jeans, which are cropped and cuffed anyway. Just the thing for dance lessons. He's deliberately just worn a t-shirt and jeans so that it can't possibly be misconstrued as a date when he goes in with Liam. If he were dressed up it might be awkward.

"I like surprises," says Liam cheerfully. "Is it a wedding thing? Or just, like, a general sort of surprise?"

Louis stops dead on the pavement and some busy London businessmen nearly walk straight into his back. "Do you mean, did I take you out for an afternoon full of surprises? Just like, for fun?"

"Yeah," says Liam unconcernedly.

Louis just stares at him for a long minute. "You are aware that you _employ_ me, right? You're paying for this?"

"Yeah, but we're also mates, right?" says Liam cheerfully. 

Louis sighs. Liam is actually impossible. "This is a wedding surprise," he says firmly. "You're going to surprise Danielle at the party."

"I am?" Liam asks happily. "Wicked. Doing what?"

"Dancing," says Louis. Liam looks slightly less happy for just a moment. Danielle was right; he's obviously a little nervous. "I'm taking you to a dance lesson so you can take Danielle around the floor for a spin and not look like a twat."

"Ohhh, that's a good idea," says Liam, nodding. 

"Is it?" Louis asks no one special, and then pushes Liam into the building where the dance classes are, and up the stairs to the studio.

The woman who runs the studio's name is Betty, and she does classes for couples for their weddings. Everyone else standing there is clearly with their partner; there's a giddy young couple giggling at each other and holding hands, and a rather stern looking older couple who are standing by the wall with crossed arms. There is even a couple of girls holding hands, one in jeans and the other in a cute summery dress, looking slightly nervous and entirely in love.

"Finally, our last couple has arrived," says Betty. She smiles at Louis. She knows _damn well_ that Louis is here with a client, because Louis called her and arranged this, but she still gives him a little eyebrow waggle and an encouraging grin. 

"This ought to be you and Danielle," says Louis.

Liam laughs. "Yeah, that'd be ideal, but this way it can be a surprise. Do you know how to dance?"

"I get by," says Louis cagily. "I'm a bit more 'drunk macarena' than romantic waltz, though."

"Then we'll learn together," says Liam cheerfully.

"Right, okay, we're going to start with an easy move," says Betty, waving her hands. "Put one hand on your partner's waist, and pull them in close. You need to decide who's going to lead," she says to the girls holding hand. And then to Liam and Louis, with a little nod.

"You'll lead, obviously," says Louis, not looking directly at Liam. He just doesn't want to think about Liam having his hands anywhere near Louis's waist. "Actually, you know what would be great? You can dance with Betty. She's the instructor, and she's a dancer like Danielle. You dance with her, and then you'll be an expert."

Liam laughs. "I think she's a bit busy," he says, nodding to where Betty is trying to wrangle the older husband into holding the woman he's with properly. "C'mon, you probably do this at all the weddings. Don't all the brides want to dance with you?"

"Usually I'm strictly behind the scenes," says Louis.

Liam shakes his head like Louis's being hilarious and grabs Louis's hand. Liam pulls him in and puts his hand on Louis's waist and Louis can't think about anything for a minute except how _big_ Liam's hand is. It's hot on Louis's skin right through his t-shirt. 

"Now, pull your partner in closer. This is meant to be _romantic_ ," says Betty.

Liam's hands tighten on Louis's waist and pulls him closer, until their hips are pressed together. Louis takes a breath in with a sudden little gasp. Liam's just so solid, and so warm, and so _strong_. Every nerve in Louis's body feels like it's been lit on fire. He wants to frown disapprovingly at Liam but he has to look up to do it, and he feels so _surrounded_ by Liam suddenly. He can smell him, the faint clean boy smell of his clothes, and it makes Louis a little light-headed.

"I'm starting the music," says Betty, hitting play on her iPod. Music starts up quietly, a waltz, and she says, "One-two-three, one-two-three," demonstrating with the older couple. 

"Ready?" Liam asks. Louis wants to say _no, absolutely not_ but before he can Liam's started pulling him into the first steps. He's a little hesitant, and he's staring at their feet, trying not to step on Louis. But that just means that his eyes are mostly hidden by his fringe, but Louis can see the curve of his smile, and the faint movement of his lips as he counts one-two-three.

And anyway, all Louis's thinking about is how he can feel Liam's hand burning through his t-shirt, like it's branding Louis's skin there. Louis actually knows how to waltz, so it isn't hard for him to keep up with Liam, but he feels more dizzy and breathless than he should from such a slow dance. 

"Sorry," says Liam, nearly stepping on Louis's foot.

"It's fine," says Louis inanely, because he can't think clearly enough to tease. He tries to ease back just a little; maybe if he's not pressed up against Liam everywhere, he'll be able to think more clearly. But Liam just frowns and bites his lip and pulls Louis in closer. 

_Danielle_ , Louis thinks, but then his brain immediately rebelliously reminds him that she and Liam broke up once, and that getting back together for a wedding is a terrible idea. They don't seem to have worked out their problems; she's still gone all the time, and they still have different interests. Liam will be miserable and unhappy and Louis could save him from that.

Louis would try his best to make Liam happy every day.

What a stupid thing to think. Louis must pull a face, because Liam glances up at him and laughs. "Am I doing that badly?" 

"Absolutely wretchedly," Louis lies. Liam laughs again. 

This is what makes him happy, Louis reminds himself. Danielle, and the wedding. That's what he wants. He probably doesn't think about Louis like that at all; he probably has never thought about another lad. If Louis were to lean up and kiss him Liam would be disgusted. He'd shove Louis away and maybe punch him in the face.

It's hard to believe that, though, when Liam has such a fond little smile on his face. And when Liam is dancing with him like this, pulling Louis in close even though the room is full of strangers. 

Louis _needs_ to believe that Liam couldn't possibly think about him like that. Otherwise it's too terrible to go on dancing with him. 

"Very nice," says Betty approvingly, over Louis's shoulder. "Very romantic. Don't just watch your feet, love. It's much more romantic to look your partner in the eye."

"I'm not his—" Louis starts.

"Right," says Liam, in his doggedly determined voice. He's still biting his lip but he stares at Louis, and Louis is helpless to do anything but stare back up at him, even though he has to tilt his face up a little because Liam is so fucking tall. 

With his face tilted up, and Liam's tilted down, and the two of them staring into each other's eyes...

It feels for a minute like Liam is going to lean down and kiss Louis. Then Liam jerks back, suddenly, like he's just remembered that Louis isn't Danielle. Louis shoves him away a step rather violently, because he forgot he wasn't Danielle for just a second, too.

"Betty!" Louis yells. "Come and dance with Liam; he's hopeless." And then he turns around before he can hear Liam's offended little, "Hey!" 

"Louis," Betty scolds, but she comes and takes his place, settling Liam's hands properly onto her hips. "Don't mind him, darling. He's just a bitter old thing."

Louis suspects that maybe Liam won't actually mind not dancing with him anymore, but he's not going to look up and see, just in case Liam's actually giving him that slightly wounded puppy face he does so effectively. Louis's heart bangs against his chest like he's just run a race. He pulls out his phone and pretends to be very, very busy as he leans against the wall and ignores Liam entirely.

 _You should go on a date with my mate Dylan !_ Niall has texted. 

That sounds dreadful. He glances up, and Liam is laughing at something Betty's said. Even though his dancing is still a bit stiff and awkward, the way his face lights up when he smiles makes him intolerably handsome. 

Louis's heart clenches uncomfortably. _Yeah, okay, when?_ he texts back to Niall, and spends the rest of the hour playing Fruit Ninja on his phone.

—

There's nothing wrong with Dylan, but it's a bad date. Louis could make conversation with a wall if he had to, but he spends most of dinner staring at his wine glass and wondering if it would be rude to get a fourth glass when Dylan's only had one. 

Dylan doesn't laugh at anything Louis says, which Louis has trouble with just as a fundamental rule of the universe. And Louis can't get Dylan to say anything much about what he does, or what he likes to do, or embarrassing drunk stories. 

There's also the part where, as perfectly fit as Dylan is, he does absolutely nothing for Louis's cock. Like, if Louis had to fuck him to save the world, he could probably manage it, but short of stopping an alien invasion through the power of magical sex, Louis can't think of many scenarios where he'd want to. 

At the end of the night Louis gives Dylan a polite kiss on the cheek and neither of them say anything about calling each other again, so at least that's not a worry.

Louis is a little ashamed at how relieved he is when he gets home to his rubbish heap of a flat. He might never be ready to date again.

And if that's not true — if possibly, maybe Louis's just relieved that he's not pretending he wants to kiss anyone who isn't Liam — then Louis doesn't think about it, and he doesn't acknowledge it.

— 

The next time Louis sees Liam is for a wine tasting, which seems like a fairly dangerous proposition. Danielle is still out of town — "I told her I had a surprise for her at the wedding that you'd arranged, she's really grateful," Liam says — and Louis doesn't especially want to sit around drinking with Liam at a cute little wine bar with dim lighting and comfortable leather seats in a dark corner. 

It feels like everything the date with Dylan wasn't.

"I don't drink much," Liam says apologetically, as if Louis has forgotten.

"Luckily we're only having a little bit of each glass," Louis says, but he takes a little bit of wicked delight in watching Liam's cheeks go pinker the more sips of wine he has.

"I wish Danielle were here. She's never home," Liam sighs.

Louis's had a couple of glasses of wine in tiny sips of red and white. "Is it a good idea to marry someone you barely ever see?" he asks, and then hears what he's just said. "Sorry, I mean that in general, not as a question about you and Danielle. You're obviously very happy."

"It's hard when she's always away," Liam says. "I miss her. I miss sex." He blinks and his cheeks go _very_ red. "Er. I didn't say that."

"Have some more wine," Louis advises, even though he ought to advise the opposite. He likes slightly tipsy Liam, who's sitting a little too close on the leather banquette. Their legs are pressed together, because one or the other of them has shifted a little bit closer. Any minute now Louis's going to shift away again. Really.

"It's really awkward to try and do it over Skype or the phone," Liam says sadly, and finishes his glass of white wine. He pulls a face. "Urgh, that's awful. Not that one."

"It's just very dry and sophisticated," Louis says, but he's not surprised Liam likes the wines that taste more like fruit juice. "It's not like this is the first time she's gone away. Haven't you worked out what to do about it yet?"

Liam looks at his empty wine glass and giggles. "One time," he says, and Louis's heart stops because he doesn't need to hear about Liam and Danielle's sex life, honestly he doesn't. "One time, we decided to be on a break for the whole summer, because she was in Spain. And she had a ballet instructor, and I—"

"Jesus," says Louis, and drinks the rest of his own glass of wine. Liam's right; it's pretty awful. "You gave her a pass for the summer?"

"We gave each other passes. Here, give me that red. I liked that one."

Louis should stop this line of conversation before it can begin. He doesn't, though; he hands Liam the red wine and says, "And you, what, chatted up girls in clubs all summer?"

Liam wrinkles up his nose. It's adorable. "I don't like sleeping with strangers, and I'm not much good at chatting them up, either. No."

"So you stayed at home, celibate, and pined for Danielle? That doesn't seem fair."

Liam starts to giggle again. "No. Not exactly. Zayn was single that summer as well. It was before Perrie."

Louis wonders if maybe Liam's had too much to drink. "You... Wait. Zayn... You mean you pulled one of his sisters or something?" He desperately needs for Liam not to mean what Louis _thinks_ he means.

"Zayn's sisters are teenagers! No, Louis, that's gross. No, I mean, me and Zayn... It was fun," Liam says, a bit wistfully.

Louis's going to crawl under the table and lie down on the nice cool floor until his skin stops feeling like it's on fire all over his body. Liam is _straight_ , he is the straightest person Louis's ever met. And it's very important to Louis's continued mental health that Liam be absolutely one-hundred-percent straight.

"You two... snogged a bit?" Louis asks. It's a little like looking at a terrible car crash. He can't make himself stop picturing it. Liam and Zayn are so fond of each other; he's seen Zayn put an arm casually round Liam's shoulder, or Liam lean into him. They'd be so _pretty_ kissing. 

"Yeah," says Liam. He holds up his empty wine glass and turns it round and round between his fingers. 

"Oh," says Louis. Just a friendly snog between mates. It makes him want to jump around and scream and throw things, but mostly because he's so deadly jealous of Zayn.

"Going down on a boy isn't a _thing_ like going down on a girl," says Liam.

Louis's heart stops.

Well then. 

Okay.

"Not just snogging?" Louis asks, feeling a bit faint. "That's — God, please don't tell me about that. Please."

Liam giggles again. "I'm good at it, though. He said so. He said—"

Louis puts his hand over Liam's mouth. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and tries to get his heart to stop doing a very erratic sort of mambo. The wine bar is roughly one million degrees, and Louis is all pressed against Liam, and he can't breathe right at all.

"No," says Louis firmly, opening his eyes again. Liam can't be available to him. He isn't allowed to fantasize about teaching him things about sucking dick. Liam's drunk and friendly and it would be _so easy_ to lean over and kiss him. He doesn't think that Liam would punch him anymore. But he _is_ starting to wonder if Liam wants him to.

Liam pushes his hand away from his mouth. "Yes, I am," he insists, and that wasn't what Louis meant at _all_. "I can show you—"

"No!" Louis says, panicked, when what he means is _yes, yes, yes._ He shoves Liam a little bit, and Liam laughs and shoves him back, and they wind up knocking each other's shoulders back and forth and nearly holding hands, as Liam tries to stop Louis from scooting away. 

"You don't believe me," says Liam, a little stubbornly. "But I _am_ good at it, I practiced. Zayn _said_ so."

Louis has a very, very vivid image of Liam on his knees for Zayn, and it's the most wonderful and painful thing he's ever imagined. "I believe you," Louis says quickly. "And if you weren't getting married, I'd let you prove it to me, but—"

"Would you?" Liam asks.

It feels like the bar has lost all of its air. There's nothing left to breathe. Louis's chest hurts, a weird ache that goes through his bones. Liam's leaning in, eyes fixed on Louis's, and Louis's hypnotized by the rise and fall of his chest. 

_Would you let me show you?_ The question is all over Liam's face, and maybe Louis hasn't been alone this entire time, imagining what it would be like to kiss Liam. Maybe Liam wasn't quite as oblivious as Louis thought. Maybe they're both a little drunk, and a little honest.

The need to lean forward and kiss Liam is a physical hurt, like a knife to the heart. Louis can't, but it's all he wants, and all he can think about. It feels like Liam is a magnet and Louis's being drawn in helplessly; he leans in a little, and nods. Liam is staring at his mouth. 

"If you weren't, I would," Louis says. His voice is harsh and breathy at once. 

Liam leans in a little, too. His hand settles on Louis's thigh, fingers digging in, sending electric shocks up Louis's leg. Louis is absolutely not allowed to get hard over this conversation, just staring at Liam's mouth, the fullness of his lower lip. His mouth probably tastes like wine now. Louis wants desperately to find out.

"If," Liam echoes. His voice is almost nothing.

Louis tries to swallow and fails, his mouth is so dry and his throat feels so tight. "Yeah," Louis says. "Of course I would."

"I—" Liam says, and leans in, and Louis's heart jackhammers against his ribs because Liam's still staring at his mouth, and the air between them feels like it's full of lightning. Louis leans in again, too, close enough to feel the puff of Liam's exhale, close enough that the only thing between their mouths is nothing. He feels the faintest brush of Liam's lips against his own, and he's never wanted anything so badly. 

"I... Shit, Louis, I can't." Liam pushes back suddenly, and nearly topples off the leather bench.

"No," says Louis, shaking his head quickly. "You can't. We can't." He feels relief and loss in equal measure, and either one would be enough to make him stagger. Together they make his chest feel caved in. He's going to cry, and he can't do it in front of anyone, so it would be good if Liam left. "You're drunk, Liam. Go home. Go and call Danielle."

"Any of the wines are fine," Liam says, grabbing his jacket. Louis can tell by the look on his face that he's about to apologize, and shit, that'll break Louis's heart. "Louis, I—"

"You're drunk and nothing happened," says Louis tightly. It would have, though. If Liam were a less honorable person. Louis still wants it so badly, because he is shit. "Go home, Liam."

Liam looks like he might cry, too. Louis stares at a spot just over his shoulder. He can feel himself starting to shake apart, and when he gets home tonight, he's going to fall into tiny pieces. He can feel the cracks and fissures starting now, creeping up his arms and down his chest. He nearly ruined a marriage. He nearly ruined Liam's life. 

"Good night," says Liam, and then all but runs out of the bar. 

Tomorrow, Louis will call Danielle and tell her he can't plan their wedding. Niall will take over, or someone else Louis finds. He won't charge them, he'll just hand all the plans over. 

Tonight he tries to keep himself as tightly wound as he can, so the man who runs the wine bar won't see him shatter. He pays the bill and smiles politely and stuffs down every part of him that wants to scream and cry. He can't stand the disappointment so he just won't feel anything.

It works until he gets home, and then he sits down on the floor beside his sofa with the television blasting and he cries quietly until he feels like he's going to be sick. Then he crawls into bed and lies there, staring at the ceiling and feeling absolutely shit, until the sun comes up.

—

"You look shit," says Niall, stopping dead in the doorway of Louis's office.

"Yes," says Louis. "Cheers."

His eyes are burning from exhaustion and they feel like they're full of grit. He also feels like the worst human being alive. He's been fantasizing about a man about to get married, and he might have ruined things for a really happy, lovely couple.

"You need, like, some tea?" Niall asks, squinting a little. "Or a bottle of whiskey?"

"Tea with whiskey," Louis says, and then shakes his head. "But before that we need to call Rob and have him take over the… The Payne-Payzer wedding." He stumbles a little bit over calling Liam and Danielle by their last names, the way he ought to. He's lost his first-name privileges. 

"What? Why?" Niall demands.

"Because we can't do it," says Louis, voice getting tight. "I fucked it up."

Niall, for all his cake-squirreled-away-in-drawers and happy-go-lucky attitude, is very perceptive. He tilts his head a little and stares at Louis. "You fucked it up, eh?" he repeats. And from the way he's staring, Louis knows he has a pretty good idea what happened.

"Just call Rob. He'll take it, he owes me a favor."

The silence feels very quiet. After a minute Niall turns and leaves, and Louis thinks he's grateful to be alone, but then Niall comes back in with tea, and Louis realizes that actually he's just grateful to have Niall.

Louis spends a few minutes staring blankly at his computer and drinking tea. There are genuine problems with the Talbot wedding; he still doesn't know he's going to get a horse to a tea party, and a third bride who wants a fully organized dance flash mob at her reception. But Louis can't think about any of that, because he's too busy being upset.

And then it gets worse. 

Niall sticks his head into the office. "Er," he says. "Liam's here?"

Shit, Louis thinks, and then wants to maybe throw himself out the window before Liam can come in. He might be sick. He can't breathe. 

"Shall I just tell him Rob's taking the wedding and he should go?" Niall asks.

"No," says Louis. He has to clear his throat and say it again. "Send him in."

He has just enough time to think that he deserves this before Liam walks in. He looks like absolute crap, too. Louis is too worn out to even hope that Liam's been up all night thinking about him. 

"I'm sorry," Louis says immediately. "We're going to move the wedding over to a friend of mine, obviously you won't want me anywhere around."

Liam looks sad, and just a little defeated. His eyes are awfully red. "No, that's okay," he says. 

Fuck, Louis hates that Liam might try to be _nice_ about it, when Louis's been such a rubbish friend. Liam just wanted a mate; someone to hang out with when Danielle was away. "It'll all be paid for," says Louis. "Don't worry about that. I'll handle that for you, it's the least I can do."

"No, I mean, there isn't going to be a wedding," says Liam tiredly. He rubs a hand against his eyes for a minute.

Is he going to fucking cry? Louis's heart tries to lurch out of his chest. "No!" he yelps, scrambling around the desk. "Liam, no, let me call Danielle, I'll explain things to her. Nothing _happened_ last night."

"It nearly did, though," says Liam. He tries to smile, and it comes out a bit crooked. "There isn't much to tell her, is there?"

"I can fix it," says Louis desperately. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I'm so completely _shit_. I can talk to her. I'm brilliant at talking brides around, honestly."

"We called it off," Liam says, and there's something in his tone that can't be argued with. Louis feels like he's going to deflate, like he's a balloon all the air's been let out of. 

"I'm sorry," Louis says again, miserably. He wonders if Liam's going to punch him. It would be alright if he did.

Liam shakes his head. "It's not your fault, is it? If it were just you, _I_ wouldn't have… I mean, it takes two to tango." He smiles wryly at that. "I shouldn't have been interested, and I was."

Louis is ashamed at how much he wants to hear that Liam was tempted. And then he wants to punch himself in the face, if Liam isn't going to.

"I've always been honest with Danielle, and I told her what happened, and how it felt, and… We just had that miserable conversation, the one about 'I love you, but I'm not in love with you,'" Liam is going on. "So there's no need for you to plan the wedding, because it's not going to happen at all. We've both cried a bit, but it's for the best, really."

"I'm sorry," Louis says again, helplessly.

Liam just shrugs. "I don't know how canceling all these bills works," he says. "Do we need to still have a party, or…?"

"I'll handle it," says Louis. It's the least he can do. He can't really afford to eat the loss from all the deposits, but he's not going to make Danielle or Liam pay for any of it, either. 

Liam tries to smile at that, but his face can't manage it. He's still too sad, and Louis did that, he wrecked all of Liam's happiness. He can't offer to buy Liam a drink or anything, because that's how it all went off the rails. "Are you sure? Is that what you do normally?"

"Of course," Louis lies. 

"That's easy, then," says Liam.

There is a long silence. It feels heavy, full of things that might have been, and aren't going to happen. Louis never could picture himself waking up with Liam after a sleepy morning cuddle, and this is obviously why.

"Well, then. Goodbye, I suppose," says Liam quietly.

Louis's all out of _I'm sorrys_. "Be well," he says instead, and Liam just sighs and shakes his head as he leaves.

Niall waits exactly long enough for the door to close before he rolls his chair into Louis's office. "Fucking hell," he says. "You weren't kidding. You want some whiskey in that tea, seriously this time?"

"We have work to do," says Louis. He needs to sit down before his knees give out. They feel a bit wobbly. He's never fucked up so spectacularly before. This is one for the record books. 

"Yeah, okay," says Niall, unconvinced. "We'll go and get proper fucked up after work, though, yeah?"

"Maybe," says Louis. He doesn't feel like he deserves to get really drunk with Niall. He needs to wallow in being miserable and guilty for a while first. 

—

The Anderson wedding is absolutely flawless. Even the bit with the horse. Louis spends the better part of two weeks trying to remember how to breathe while he's working his arse off, when all he wants to do is stay in his house, on the sofa, in the dark, and never speak to another human being. Instead he's working and social and loud and cheerful, because that's his fucking job. 

His weddings have never gone more smoothly, is the sad part. 

The third week, Louis wakes up and gets out of bed without wanting to throw himself into traffic. The twinge in his chest of _could have been if I hadn't fucked it up_ is still there, but it's a little less terrible. Enough that Louis manages half a smile for Niall, and rather than going home and straight to bed, he watches a news quiz for half an hour. 

Then Harry calls and yanks the rug out from under him again. 

"We haven't seen you in forever!" Harry says, in his slow, disapproving way. "Yesterday I watched a wedding show, and this girl had terrible shoes, and I thought 'where's Louis'?"

Hasn't Liam told him? Louis feels sick all over again. "You should call Liam," he says, and starts to thumb the button to turn his phone off.

"I have, of course," says Harry. "No one's ever quite as mopey as he is when his heart's broken. He was drunk on Zayn's sofa for a week, and then he got a tattoo, and now he's just generally sort of slumping around sadly all the time."

Louis squeezes his eyes shut tightly. "Well," he says. _Didn't Liam tell you that it's my fault? Are you calling to shout at me? He didn't punch me, but you can if you'd like._ "I mean, so there you are, then."

"Just because Liam's too sad to go out doesn't mean we can't," Harry says.

"Why would you want to?" Louis bursts out. "Come on. Liam's your mate."

"We're mates, too," says Harry, sounding stubborn. 

"If I were Liam and Danielle's mate, I wouldn't want to see me, ever again," says Louis. 

Harry sighs. "I've talked to Liam, okay? And... honestly, you both fucked up, and Danielle's owed an apology, but Liam's an adult. Whatever happened, he wanted it to happen, too."

"He's a decent person," Louis insists.

"So are you."

Well, shit. "I tried to kiss him," Louis says flatly. Maybe if he's just rude about it, Harry will leave him alone. 

"Yeah, and he offered to suck your dick."

Louis chokes on nothing. He can't imagine Liam actually telling people what happened. What sort of person _is_ Liam? 

"Liam isn't very good at keeping secrets," says Harry. "He got drunk and cried about it to Zayn. Danielle wasn't thrilled, obviously. But I didn't really think they'd go through with the wedding anyway."

"Then why did you send him to me?" Louis asks despairingly. 

"I thought he'd snap out of it, if he had to think about it all day long. And then he was so happy hanging out with you. It was all 'Louis this,' and 'Louis that,' and 'Louis said the funniest thing yesterday.'"

Louis can't help but puff up a little at that. Liam thinks he's funny. That's what he lives for. "And you still want to hang out with me?" Louis asks.

"Of course I do," says Harry. Harry is a good sort, and maybe not very good at judging other people's character. Louis appreciates that in a friend. "Come out to a bar with me. We'll get a drink. It'll be fun. Nick's off filming all night, and Zayn's at Perrie's, and Liam's hiding in his flat and won't answer the phone."

Louis hates the idea that Liam's miserable, too. But oh God, Louis could use a drink. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Somewhere divey and dark."

"I know just the place," says Harry, and Louis can hear him grinning.

—

Harry is excellent because he doesn't drink that much, but he's willing to sit at a bar for a long time while Louis drinks. 

"This place is awful," says Louis admiringly. It looks like no one has ever swept this place, and nearly everything is a dark but comfortable corner. Louis could easily pass out here and not be noticed for hours. It's perfect.

"Yeah, it's a favorite," says Harry. "Have another pint."

"You shouldn't be doing this," says Louis, but he takes the drink. 

"I shouldn't buy you a pint?" asks Harry, with a crooked grin.

"You're Liam's friend," Louis says. "You shouldn't be here with me, when I'm all fucked up over him."

Harry considers that for a minute and then takes a long drink of his own pint. "Maybe, except I'll tell you a secret. I've been listening to him be all fucked up over you, too."

It's either the best thing or the worst thing Louis's ever heard. He's in no position to judge. There are four empty glasses on the table between them already, and Louis had one before he came out, to steady his nerves. He's going to end up a tragic old alcoholic at this rate. 

He secretly likes the idea that Liam's as fucked up over him as he is over Liam, but he can't consider it without imagining all the guilt that goes along with that. Liam was a good boyfriend before Louis came along and ruined him. And he can't feel badly enough about that, no matter how bad he feels. 

The other part of Louis liked needling Liam, and wanted to see how much frustration it would take to make Liam stop smiling goofily and start pushing back. The part isn't sad that he ruined Liam. Not like he should be. 

"He's sad because he isn't getting married," says Louis.

"Yeah," says Harry easily. "That, too."

"He ought to be really, really furious with me," says Louis.

"He probably is," says Harry. Unhelpful bastard. "But also the other thing."

Louis groans. "I can't think about the other thing, Harry. I ruined it. Unless you've got a time machine so I can go back to before Liam and Danielle fell in love—"

"That was _ages_ ago."

"Leave it," Louis almost growls. "Stop trying to help. You aren't helping."

"I am _always_ helpful," says Harry, which sounds like something Louis would say when he's feeling particularly obnoxious.

Louis draws little circles on the condensation on the glass. He shouldn't be this drunk on this many glasses of beer. Maybe he should have eaten more today. "Liam was secretly unhappy with Danielle and he wanted an excuse. I don't want to be anyone's excuse."

"I think he wanted a friend," says Harry quietly. 

Why did Louis come out for a drink with someone who can just _say_ things like that? Louis puts his head down on the cool table for a minute and tries to breathe. 

"I never wanted to be his friend," Louis tells a puddle of beer. "I just wanted to kiss him. Too much. Go and get a bottle of rum. I think I'm going to sleep on the floor here."

Harry rubs Louis's back and doesn't say anything for a while. The room is spinning so Louis doesn't feel inclined to move much, and Harry's enormous hand feels nice on his back. 

"I think you might need a friend, too. Why can't you be his friend _and_ kiss him?" 

Harry sounds so _reasonable_. Louis hates him a little. "No," he says. "Stop saying things like that. I ruined it. It's all ruined. He's not getting married, and I'm rubbish, and I miss him, and I'm terrible anyway. So terrible."

"You aren't rubbish." Harry tries to pull Louis up off the table. "And you're not awful, and Liam's pretty sad. C'mon, get up."

"Can I have another pint?" Louis asks, falling into Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah. Maybe two," says Harry. 

"You're fantastic," says Louis, and he really, really means it.

—

A week and a half later, Louis looks around his apocalypse of a flat and thinks _I could tidy up a bit._ The twinge in his chest at the word tidy – Liam liked to tidy – is ridiculous, and he tells himself so. He's about three days away from losing track of his floor completely; he has a path picked out from the door to the sofa, and from the sofa to the bedroom, and everything else is carefully hidden by layers of clothes and papers and takeaway containers and discarded Haribo packets, and empty bottles of wine. He's going to end up on one of those television programmes about hoarders pretty soon.

It wouldn't be the _worst_ thing in the world, if he could walk to the toilet in the middle of the night without stepping on pens, Louis reasons. Even given the standard level of disaster in his flat, things have got a bit dire. He isn't going to draw a line between the state of his flat and the state of his soul, or anything, but very possibly it's time for a purge.

He gets as far as moving some of the rubbish into the bin and then loses interest again. Tidying is hard and annoying. That's why he doesn't do it, he remembers now.

Louis's phone rings, and it takes him a minute to find where he's hidden it under the cushions of the sofa and unbury it. "Listen," says Harry. "I was out today, and I was talking to Nick, and we were walking past this Starbucks and –"

Louis tunes out the next couple of minutes of Harry's story, because Harry's not fantastic at getting to the point. He kicks some rubbish away from the sofa. He'll make a pile or something. It'll be great.

"—so Liam's probably going to call you. Or stop by. I don't know. He wants to talk to you."

Louis tunes back in and it feels like a car crash in his chest. "What? No! Why would that be a good idea?"

"I mean, it sounds pretty good to me."

"I take back all of the nice things I ever thought about you," says Louis. 

"No, you don't," says Harry easily. There is a knock at Louis's door. "That's probably him."

"Oh, fuck you," Louis says, panicking. "I'm not going to answer. I'm going to delete you out of my phone." Why is his heart pounding like that? This is ridiculous.

"Imagine how sad Liam would be, standing outside knocking and waiting for you. Imagine his tragic face—" Harry starts.

Louis clicks the phone off and throws it across the room. 

Someone knocks at the door again.

"Shit, fuck, _shit_ ," says Louis. He kicks things away from the sofa, so he can stumble to his feet and over to the door. He's not going to answer it. He's just going to look outside and see if it's really Liam. Maybe he's really angry, not sad. Maybe it's someone else. Maybe it's an angry bride. 

Louis's hand opens the door without asking him if that's alright. Which it isn't. He shouldn't even have touched the knob, what is he thinking, why would he do that –

Liam is outside on the doorstep. He's got a leather jacket on, and one hand in his pocket, with the other up to knock on Louis's door. He looks a little tired, but not angry, or devastated. 

He looks handsome, Louis thinks. Looking a little worn out just makes him _more_ handsome, which isn't fucking fair. 

Louis had hoped that some time away would make Liam less magnetic. But Liam gives him half a smile, just a hesitant little crook of his lips, and Louis can feel his heart try to leap out of his chest and toward Liam. Louis doesn't know what to say – "hi," is much too casual, and he's already tried "I'm sorry." It feels too soon to say "I really want to suck your dick." So. Louis opens his mouth and nothing comes out.

Liam doesn't say anything, either; he looks Louis down and then up and then bites his lip. Louis forgets how to breathe when he sees that; it's a little bit shy, and a little bit... Shit, it's an _invitation_.

Just like it opened the door without his permission, Louis's hand reaches out again for Liam. His fingers brush across Liam's chest and there's a shock – Liam's real, and he's warm, and he's actually right there – and electricity runs up Louis's hand. He gasps and pulls it back. But Liam reaches out and catches his hand, and holds on, and Louis's whole arm feels like it's on fire.

Louis steps back and pulls Liam into the flat with him. Liam comes easily. He starts to smile, actually, and Louis thinks _the sun coming out from behind the clouds,_ and he can't stand himself for that. He fists his hand in Liam's shirt and drags him in. Liam stumbles and crashes into him, and he's so tall and broad and he hasn't yelled at Louis, or told him to stop, or shoved him away. Louis's back hits the wall but Liam doesn't stop moving forward. He presses Louis back, hands on either side of his shoulders, bracketing him. Louis can see the script of a new tattoo running up Liam's arm, warning him quietly that _only time will tell_.

The door is still open, Louis thinks, and doesn't care. He tips his face up expectantly, because Liam is grinning at him now, and Louis's still trying to pull him in closer by his t-shirt, even though Liam couldn't get any closer; they're so pressed together that Louis can barely breathe. Not that he particularly wants to. 

Liam leans down just as Louis pushes up onto his toes a little, and their mouths crash together. It isn't smooth; they bump noses and Louis's teeth scrape along Liam's mouth. Liam huffs out something that might be a laugh, except Louis throws his other arm around Liam's neck and drags him down into a proper kiss. 

Louis had thought that maybe if he got to kiss Liam, that horrible longing in his chest would go away. Instead it's the opposite; the minute their mouths touch, it's like every nerve in Louis's body stands on end and starts to sing. He presses forward into Liam as Liam presses into him. Louis's free hand goes to Liam's hair and finds the curls there, sinking his fingers into them so Liam can't go anywhere. But Liam isn't trying to move; he's got one leg between Louis's and he groans, pushing his hips into Louis's. It's wonderful and painful at the same time. There are so many things that Louis wants, and places he wants to touch, but all his thoughts have dissolved into fizzing fireworks in his brain. He pushes up against Liam, and Liam pushes back. It's the best thing in the world.

Liam groans again and pulls back a little bit, but Louis follows him, back up onto his toes so he can chase Liam's mouth. Liam laughs and kisses him again, and it tastes better when he's laughing. It feels better when Louis can feel him laughing where their chests are pressed together. Liam kisses hard and enthusiastically. Of course he does. Louis's dick couldn't be more delighted, and it feels like lightning is running up and down his spine. 

"Okay," says Liam, pulling back again. He's a little breathless, and his mouth is very, very red. Louis's a little fixated on his lower lip, which is exactly as soft as Louis had suspected. "Wow. Hi."

"Hi," says Louis, beaming at him.

Liam smiles back. One thing Louis really likes about Liam; he always smiles back at Louis. "So... can I come in, then?" Liam asks, a little teasing.

"Dunno," says Louis, who's still holding on to his t-shirt. "What are you here for?" He's scared to death that Liam will say _I needed to talk to you about how Danielle and I are getting married after all_ , or _I came here to ask you to stop being friends with Harry._ It doesn't seem _likely_ , since he was just enthusiastically kissing Louis, but he's a little afraid anyway.

He holds his breath when Liam's face flickers serious again. "I wanted to talk to you," he says.

"No," says Louis. "I liked the kissing instead."

"Yeah," says Liam, with a tiny smile. "Me, too."

Louis definitely doesn't want to hear what Liam has to say, in that case. "Good," he says. He lets go of Liam so he can duck under Liam's arm and shove the door closed. "Let's do that instead, then." Liam turns around to watch him, so this time Louis pushes Liam back against the wall and kisses him again. Liam hits the wall with a tiny laugh and grabs Louis's hips, pulling him in. It's nice to be grabbed, actually, and Louis likes how big Liam's hands are. He rubs his thumb over Liam's nipple and enjoys the way he can feel it pebbling up. His other hand roams lower, toward the flies on Liam's jeans, and he presses his hips in so Liam can feel how excited he is about this. Liam's half-hard, too, and when Louis palms his cock through his jeans, Liam groans, deep in his chest.

If Louis were a different person, he might ask how far he's being invited to go. But pushing people too far has always been his favorite way to play, so he presses the heel of his hand harder against Liam's dick, massaging it, and pinches Liam's nipple with his other hand. Liam jumps, and Louis bites at his lower lip as a reprimand. Louis wonders if it's too much – he can't help himself, Liam feels like gravity, like he couldn't stop palming Liam's dick even if he had to – and then one of Liam's hands moves off Louis's hip and around to his arse, fingers digging in hard enough that Louis moans a little. 

So Liam likes this, then. That's good to know. Louis rocks his hips against Liam's, and even through both of their jeans, he can feel their dicks rubbing against each other. He tries to undo the button on Liam's jeans, but then Liam puts both hands on Louis's arse and grabs him, using both hands to pick Louis up so he can turn them around again. Louis's back crashes into the wall and his feet aren't quite on the ground because Liam's holding him up with those goddamn arms of his. Louis puts his arms around Liam's neck again, as Liam lets Louis slip so he's got one foot on the ground, but he keeps his other leg up over Liam's hip, rocking against Liam, and he's so hard that the zip on his jeans is digging painfully into his dick. Actually, Louis is in a lot of danger of coming in his jeans like a teenager, but he can't stop kissing Liam long enough to make any kind of plan to get naked. He's wanted it too much for too long.

"Jesus," Liam whispers against Louis's mouth, and Louis uses that as an excuse to bite Liam's neck. Liam's mouth drops open even as his eyes close, forehead falling against Louis's shoulder. His fingers don't loosen on Louis's arse, though. 

"Better than talking," says Louis. His voice is rough and breathy and unintentionally sexy sounding. He just can't breathe well enough to speak clearly; his heart is speeding up, and his hips have started moving on their own, creating a rhythm that's getting faster with a mind of its own. His body knows what it wants and Louis has never been very good at denying himself anything fun. 

"Better," Liam agrees on an exhale. He's matching Louis's rhythm, pulling him in, kissing Louis's neck and then sucking on it, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make Louis shiver. 

Shit, Louis realizes, this is about to be really embarrassing. He shouldn't be able to get off just from this, but Liam smells good, and he's so solidly pressing Louis back into the wall, and the pain-pleasure of Liam's fingers digging in to his arse and his mouth on Louis's neck, is sparking little white supernovas around the edges of Louis's vision. "Fuck," Louis gasps, pushing into Liam, feeling the first whispers of an orgasm shuddering through him. Liam presses forward at just the right rhythm as Louis pushes into him, and it's _just_ enough friction. Louis gasps and comes, shuddering and jerking forward against Liam. And then Liam's the only thing holding Louis upright, because all his muscles have turned to jelly, and he can't catch his breath, let alone do anything else.

It takes Louis a minute to start breathing again. His chest feels ragged and his whole body feels wrung out. "I've got more finesse than that, I swear," he croaks.

Liam laughs and nudges Louis's face up so he can kiss him again. There's something very sweet about how Liam kisses him, but there's an edge of desperation under it, too, like Liam is too polite to point out that he hasn't come yet. Louis kisses him back, but he still feels wobbly all over. He gentles the kiss because he can't help himself; he hasn't got the energy to keep up with Liam at the moment.

"I've seen your weddings. I know you've got finesse," says Liam eventually. His mouth has gone from shiny to raw looking, and Louis could keep kissing him for hours. It's better than Louis thought it would be, and he'd imagined it would be wonderful. He just wants to curl up against Liam's chest and then stay there for a few hours. Or a few days.

Liam moves his hands off Louis's arse and back up to his hips. Louis makes a tiny noise of protest. "We really should talk, though?" says Liam apologetically. 

"Nooooo," Louis groans. Liam is going to have some sort of logical reason why this was a bad idea, or he won't have come over just to have wanton sex all over Louis's flat. 

"Quick talk," says Liam. "Just a minute or two. Promise." He rolls his hips forward, and yeah; he might have a good reason not to want to get bogged down in a chat about feelings. 

"You and Danielle broke up, and it's my fault," says Louis. "Short enough?" He's so afraid Liam will say something like that that all he can do is blurt it out himself.

Liam, though, looks astonished. "We broke up and it's _my_ fault, Louis. We love each other, but we aren't _in love_ anymore. You were just the most bloody fit person I'd met in months. Her and me, we're going to see if we can stay friends, even if it's hard. It'll take a really long time, I think, but getting married would have been a rubbish idea."

"You would have made her happy," says Louis. His stomach hurts again with guilt.

"I would have tried," Liam agrees. He looks down and then back up at Louis shyly. "I'd... I'd like to try and make _you_ happy."

Louis's heart slams against his ribs, one-two-three. "You don't have to," he lies, voice dropping because he doesn't want to say this out loud. "Just because it was me that... That broke you up..."

"Wanting to fuck you is what broke us up," says Liam bluntly. Louis is fascinated; the word _fuck_ falls out of Liam's mouth like a promise. It's so unnatural that it comes back around to sexy, especially when he's wearing a leather jacket Louis thinks he might have stolen from Zayn. "And I still want that. I mean... If that's okay."

The apologetic look on his face, like Louis who just _came in his fucking jeans_ from some kissing and rubbing up against each other, wouldn't be willing, drives Louis mad. He needs to get out of his damp pants pretty soon, actually, or they'll stick to his balls and be a nightmare to get off later. But that can wait; he pushes up and kisses Liam again, clashing their teeth together, sucking Liam's lower lip into his mouth and biting it. How could Liam possibly doubt that this is what Louis's wanted all along? 

"Please can that be the entire discussion?" Louis asks, pulling back. "I like where it ended."

Liam laughs again, looking relieved. "I just get this _feeling_ around you, like everything is going to be alright." It's so weird and goofy and endearing that Louis pushes him back, because he wants Liam in his bed right now. 

"Shut up," says Louis. "Never say anything like that again." He kisses Liam and then shoves him back another step. 

Liam grins and hooks his fingers through Louis's belt loops. Then he steps backwards and stumbles over a takeaway container and stops, looking around. "Wow," he says.

Shit, Louis forgot. "You like to tidy," Louis says, embarrassed like he almost never is. He puts his chin up, squaring his shoulders. Not that he thinks Liam would take a swing at him, but it doesn't hurt to brace himself for a body blow when disappointment is looming.

"I do," Liam agrees, nodding distractedly. He hasn't moved his hands off Louis yet. Maybe that's a good sign? "And this place could use a good tidy."

"I'm a mess," says Louis. "I'm sorry, I imagine Danielle wasn't." He isn't sorry, he's defiant, but what he wants is to take Liam to bed. He didn't really imagine them having a long, happy life together, just a fast shag. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. My bedroom isn't this terrible, I promise." 

He pushes at Liam again, but Liam is unmovable when he wants to be, and apparently what he wants to do right now is to take a survey of Louis's flat. "Has it always looked like this?" Liam asks.

"Yes," says Louis. "Well, no. It's been worse lately. Can we discuss a chores rota later please? I want to take your pants off." He tugs at Liam's jeans, which are dangerously close to slipping off, despite his belt. 

"Worse lately?" echoes Liam. He turns and gives Louis a long, scrutinizing look that seems to stare straight through him. Louis can feel his cheeks getting pink in spite of himself. He fidgets a little, but Liam's hands are still tight on his hips. Liam says quietly, "If I made it worse, I can make it better, I promise." He leans down and kisses Louis, gentle and deep.

Louis wants to say _it wasn't you_ , but he doesn't think Liam would believe him. And he'd rather be kissed than argue with Liam, anyway. At least for now. Louis likes arguing quite a lot, too. 

Liam kisses his way across Louis's jaw, and Louis can feel his eyes trying to flutter shut. He can't, though, because he needs to get Liam off before Liam realizes he might be making a mistake. "Later," Liam mumbles into the crook of Louis's neck, "I'm going to get this place sorted."

"Later, though," says Louis, pushing him backwards again, trying not to make either of them trip over the disaster on his floor.

"Later," Liam repeats seriously.

"Yeah, okay," Louis says. He takes Liam's hand and pulls him through the living room and on to the bedroom. He has to throw some laundry off the bed to make space, sure, but Liam just laughs and pulls his t-shirt off over his head. It's much sexier than it was at the office. Louis kicks off his own jeans and pants because they're drying and getting sticky, and then goes to take his shirt off. While his arms are over his head, all tangled up, Liam comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Louis's waist. Liam's still got his pants on because Louis can feel them against his arse, along with Liam's cock, which is still hard from when they were rubbing off on each other by the door. It fits nicely against Louis's arse and Louis wriggles back as he throws his shirt off, teasing. He hears Liam's quick intake of breath and relaxes just a little; he's _good_ at this. 

Louis likes how Liam makes him feel surrounded; when they get around to fucking, he's going to make Liam hold him down, and it's going to be amazing. But right now – "If you don't let go I can't suck your dick, and I've been _dying_ to do that for _weeks_ ," says Louis. 

He can feel Liam's arms go rigid, like he doesn't know what to do; grab Louis tighter, or let go. Louis pinches his arm so he lets go in surprise, and Louis turns around. Liam is so fucking fit mostly naked. Louis runs his hand up Liam's arm tattoo, and across Liam's chest, and then down, pushing Liam so he sits down on the bed and Louis can kneel between his legs. 

"Really?" says Liam, and his voice breaks.

Louis laughs. He grabs Liam's pants and tugs them down so Liam has to shift up and Louis can pull them off. "Since, like, the day I met you," he says. " Now, I know you fancy yourself an expert at this—"

"Zayn _said_ —"

"Kindly do not talk about ex-boyfriends while we're fucking," says Louis, pinching Liam's thigh. He likes Liam's cock; it's bigger than he was expecting, and he can definitely work with that. He runs his hand over it, enjoying how hard it is already, and how soft the skin there feels in his hand. "Although I can't tell you how pleased I was that you had an ex-boyfriend."

"We weren't really dating properly," says Liam, a little sheepishly. "More like... Friends with benefits."

"Cock sucking is my _favorite_ benefit of friendship," says Louis. He runs his hand along Liam's dick a couple of times, thumb rubbing back and forth along the underside, seeing what makes Liam tip his head back, and what makes Liam's hips jerk up off the bed. 

Liam has his eyes mostly closed and his arms behind him, rigid, making the muscles stand out. "Oh, god. You're going to kill me," he says.

"The little death," says Louis with a grin, and takes Liam into his mouth.

Liam is probably perfectly good at giving head, but Louis fucking loves doing this. He loves the weight of Liam's cock in his mouth, and he loves the way he can hold Liam's thighs with his hands and dig his fingers into the muscles there. He likes the taste, too. He can feel himself getting hard again just from this. Liam's making brilliant noises, biting back groans and trying to keep his hips still. Louis wouldn't honestly mind if Liam started fucking his mouth. 

Liam comes too quickly for that, and Louis is almost disappointed. Or he would be, except for how excellent Liam looks with his head tipped back and his check and neck flushed red, and sweat starting to bead across his forehead. Liam's chest heaves and Louis swallows, he licks his lips, because he made Liam look like that, and he might get to do it again. 

Louis gets off his knees and pretends his legs haven't cramped up a little. He climbs onto the bed and slings an arm over Liam, pulling them both down onto the mattress. Louis throws his leg over Liam's, too, just because he can.

"Okay," says Liam eventually, eyes fluttering open. He looks at Louis and his smile is so fond that Louis's heart would break all over again if that smile wasn't directed at him. "Okay, I'm willing to learn a thing or two about that."

"I'm here any time you're lonely in the middle of the night," Louis says lightly.

Liam stares at him for a minute and then puts his own arm around Louis, pulling him closer. Louis feels a little claustrophobic suddenly, like Liam can see him too clearly, and he'd wiggle away but he's much too naked. 

"I don't really do casual very well," says Liam eventually. "I didn't just pop round to tell you me and Danielle are definitely off, and then for a quick shag. I _like_ you."

"Well, you shouldn't," says Louis into Liam's shoulder. "I ruin things. I ruin relationships."

Liam laughs like he thinks Louis's kidding. "That's ridiculous."

Louis just shakes his head. Why can't Liam fall asleep after he comes, like a normal person? 

"Louis," says Liam quietly, and kisses the top of Louis's head. "What's wrong?"

"You've seen my flat. It's a disaster. No one sees it. _Niall_ hasn't even seen it."

"Hmm," says Liam. "Well, give me an afternoon with a broom and some bleach, I'm sure I could sort it."

"No, it's more than that, it's worse than that, it's _everything_ ," says Louis helplessly. 

"I can sort it," Liam repeats. His arm goes tighter around Louis, and it doesn't feel claustrophobic anymore; it feels like Liam is keeping him from toppling right off the bed. 

"It's a really big project," mumbles Louis. "It'd probably take years to get everything cleaned up."

There's a pause. "Okay, we're not just talking about your flat now, right?" Liam asks. 

Louis snorts. "We can be if you'd like."

"It's alright with me if it takes years," says Liam. "It just seems like... Like you've been really lonely. And I don't think you should be allowed to be sad like that anymore."

That hurts in a different way. Louis aches because Liam is so kind, and he has no idea what he's getting into. Louis would like to believe him. He really would. It's just... difficult. "I thought I was going to get married, and he slept with someone else instead," Louis says quietly. "Everyone leaves. I fuck it up every time. This is another black mark on my record, really. You probably don't want to tie yourself down to me."

"Oh, Louis," says Liam quietly. "That's so shit. I'm sorry. But we're going to be fine."

"Maybe," says Louis, a bit dubiously. He can't help it.

"Definitely. I _like_ you, Louis. Honestly. I really and truly do, and I'm not going anywhere."

That's more than enough deep and meaningful conversation for one night. There are better things they could be doing. If it works out, it works out, but Louis isn't going to hold his breath. Hope is painful, and Louis isn't sure he can keep on with his life if he's trying to hold on to it. Louis nudges Liam's thigh with his dick.

"Already?" Liam asks, laughing. 

"We're taking turns, and it's my turn," says Louis. He can be quite insistent when he needs to. "C'mon. It's more fun."

"I'd rather have a really long talk about our feelings," says Liam, sounding serious. 

Louis pushes up on one elbow. "Really?"

Liam snorts. "No." He rolls on top of Louis, which is quite nice, and holds himself up with those excellent arms of his. Louis could get used to that view. "Is it alright if I stay here tonight, then? I didn't bring a toothbrush or anything."

"Dunno. If your breath is bad, I'll have to rethink the whole thing, probably. That sounds awful. I have very discriminating taste."

"Yeah, well," says Liam, with a little grin. "Right now you taste like my cock, so you can't be _that_ picky."

"Point," says Louis. "And you should probably get to work on mine. I hear you're good at that." His hands wander toward Liam's arse and down his thighs, pulling Liam a little closer. 

"I am," says Liam, leaning down for a kiss.

Louis turns his face away haughtily. "I'll be the judge of that."

"That's the idea," says Liam, and bites his shoulder, and that's the end of their conversation for a while.

—

Liam snores, just a little. It's disgustingly endearing. Louis wakes up earlier than he means to, still sleepy and too lazy to move, watching Liam in the mostly-dark room. 

Liam yawns and cracks his eyes open. "'lo," he says, voice deep and creaky with disuse.

"I haven't got any food for breakfast," says Louis. "You should probably go home."

Liam scrunches up his face for a minute, thinking. "No," he says eventually. "Probably we should just get breakfast together on our way out. That's easier."

"You don't want to go home and shower?"

Liam shrugs. He's so warm and comfortable to lie against. Louis wants to use him as his personal pillow for a long time. "I can shower here, I guess? 'm gonna have to wear the same clothes to work as yesterday. The kids'll think it's hilarious."

"You can borrow a t-shirt," says Louis. If his shirts will even fit Liam. 

"Okay," says Liam agreeably, and closes his eyes again. 

Louis is wide awake, now that they've started talking. He pokes at Liam's arm. "Hey. Hey, Liam."

"Yeah?" says Liam, not opening his eyes. He curls into Louis and throws his arm across Louis's chest. 

"Nothing," says Louis, because there aren't really words for all the questions he has. Things will either happen one way or they won't. Nothing much he can do about it now except try and keep Liam happy. "I think you should go and make me tea." 

"Later," says Liam. "It's like, five in the morning."

"What if I want tea _right now_?" Louis asks, poking him again.

"Dunno. S'pose I'd get up and make it. Shhh."

Weirdly, that answer makes Louis feel better. It's not that he thinks he'll have a sudden tea emergency; it's more that Liam's willing. And yes, Louis will definitely wake him up at three some morning next week to see if he'll _really_ make tea _just because_. Louis can't help being himself. He thinks Liam will do it, though. And that makes Louis's chest feel suspiciously warm. Louis cards his fingers through Liam's hair until Liam's breath evens out again, and Liam's quiet snuffles drag Louis back to sleep, too.

_much later_

Harry and Nick's anniversary is a week after Zayn and Perrie get married, so Louis has been insanely busy planning a million things and running himself ragged. Instead of a proper party, or a romantic night out, Harry and Nick rent out part of a beer garden and everyone sits around in the sun, wearing jumpers and wishing it were just a little warmer.

The chill doesn't affect anyone's mood, though. Niall, in particular, is as happy as Louis's ever seen him, attempting to teach a traditional Irish dance to Perrie, who is drunk. Actually they're both drunk. In point of fact, nearly everyone in the garden is drunk, which is exactly what Harry wanted.

"All the people I love," says Harry gravely. The beer in his hand sloshes all over Nick, because Harry is sat on top of him.

"Oi, get off me if you're going to be a sloppy drunk, or I'll drop you on your arse," says Nick.

Harry grins at him. "You wouldn't, really."

"Just try me, Styles," says Nick, which is apparently Harry's cue to lean over and kiss him messily. 

"That's disgusting," says Louis fondly. "Liam, kiss me. I feel left out."

Liam obligingly leans over and kisses him. Liam has had two beers, which is a bit of a triumph for Louis. He feels slightly bad about the fact that Danielle was invited, and decided not to come, but Nick says it's only because she's got a well fit boyfriend who's taking her out on a yacht this weekend, so Louis's trying not to worry. Then Louis's phone buzzes, and he groans and sits back, because kissing his boyfriend can't stop work from creeping in on a day off. 

"The Hendersons want doves," Louis shouts to Niall. "Where are we going to find doves before Saturday?"

"Tell the Hendersons to put the doves up their arses," says Niall helpfully. 

The future Mrs. Henderson is extremely uptight, and Louis doesn't think a dove would fit up her arse, to be honest. "I thought you were taking a break," says Harry. 

"After this one, I have no more weddings for almost a month," says Louis. "I expect I'll go mad with boredom."

"He's going to lie around on the sofa eating crisps and throwing the packets on the floor for me to sweep up," says Liam, and pinches Louis's side. 

Liam is exactly right about Louis's plans, although he's going to watch all three seasons of Game of Thrones while he does it, but Louis still slaps his hand away. "I deserve a break," he says. "I want to be a kept man. Liam, you work, and I'll eat bonbons and lounge."

"You'll stay out too late drinking with Harry and then whine when you've got a hangover in the morning," says Liam, but he sounds like that's an alright plan with him. Louis grins at him, because Liam doesn't mind getting Louis a really greasy egg in the morning when his head is throbbing. And Liam grins back, shaking his head.

"Ohhh," says Nick in a sing-song voice. "Not planning a wedding at the moment, eh? _Really?_ "

Everyone turns to stare at them, and Louis refuses to blush. They aren't. They haven't talked about it. Well, Liam's mum has talked about it, and she didn't seem too thrilled when Louis and Liam both insisted they liked small and intimate rather than enormous bashes. But it's still an academic question.

"Just planning on being really happy," says Liam, squeezing Louis's hand.

He means it, too, is the thing that Louis is still trying to adjust to. How Liam can be _so_ sincere and well meaning, and still a bit of a stubborn twat sometimes in his own special way, Louis doesn't understand. He likes it, though. "For now," he says. Liam turns sharply to look at him, and Louis bites his lip, because he wasn't expecting to say that out loud.

Liam breaks out into a grin, one of his dazzling smiles that are hard to look directly at. Louis gets that warm, happy flutter in his chest, still, because he made Liam smile like that. Louis kisses his cheek and then pinches his arm, because he likes to be unpredictable. "Luckily, when we're ready, I know a really excellent wedding planner."


End file.
